Hip Hop and the Hooligan
by bluetreeleaves
Summary: Van Fanel had just signed his life away, broken a promise he made to himself three years ago, and eaten some really good pancakes. And that's when the insanity began...
1. 1 Of Pancakes and Puke

**This is a story for funsies. I have started this for silliness and insanity and romantic dripple. I laughed while I wrote it and I hope you will too!**

 **This was edited by my wonderful Beta Reader Kerapal Bubbles. May her grammar be mighty.**

 **The image was produced by my good friend Nainari.**

 **And let the insanity... BEGIN.**

* * *

The booth was tattered, but the pancakes were amazing. The tiny all-day breakfast dive was an impeccable hiding place. Especially for the kind of day he'd had. There were hardly any customers in the place.

Perfect.

Van took a sip of coffee and sighed as his eyes slid over to the contract papers that rested beside his half-empty plate. Settling back in the seat, he picked up the page that held his signature and felt an unsettling irritation rustle the food in his stomach. He'd caved. He'd broken his promise to himself from three years ago and signed his life away once more. And all for what?

Money. It had become his leash and Allen knew it. Van had to take care of Merle. She was the only one he had left in this world. He had to provide for her.

Allen's attempt at a thug accent rang annoyingly in his head: " _Yo, Van! This is the opportunity of a lifetime, aight!? To get back on stage! You'll be playing again, homme! Writing those bitch-kickin' songs again! Just take the paper and bring it back to me on the fly tomo, know what I'm sayin'? Rattle it in yo head for a bit! You'll have it all like! Fame, cha-ching, the bitches! It's C.T.F, dude. C.T.F."_

Van didn't care enough to figure out what C.T.F meant. His friend had changed with the times. Van loved good ol' alternative rock. Allen wanted to go hip hop...

Just another reason to hate himself.

"I never even liked that life, Allen," Van murmured darkly to his signature. "That's the reason I got out. I'm not like you. I don't want the fame and attention. I just want to write songs. I want-"

"More coffee, sir?" A woman's chipper voice broke his audible train of thought. Van looked up with a blush of embarrassment. A pair of bright green eyes in a pretty face smiled down at him. Her hair was cropped short like a pixie. Dressed in the bright yellow dress uniform, she shook the coffee pot she was holding and the black liquid sloshed noisily.

"I'm alright, thanks," he nodded. "I would like a to-go box, if you don't mind."

Her green eyes widened with recognition and his heart sank.

He knew that look.

Reaching up, she yanked out a red earphone bud that had been nestled in her right ear and it draped over her shoulder. "I know you!" she said loudly and the few customers in the place looked over curiously. "You're _Fanel_ , right? _Van Fanel!?_ You were the lead guitarist with the White Dragons several years back! Holy shit, that's amazing! I have all of your albums! I can't believe you of all people are sitting here in this dump!"

"Watch your mouth, brat!" An older, much larger man barked from the back counter. He had stains on his apron and a spatula in his thick fingers. "I have the urge to fire you again!"

"It's a dump and you know it!" she shot back. "And who else would work here for what you pay!?"

"Don't provoke him, Hitomi," A redhead walked by hauling a tray of silverware. "He'll be awful for hours if this keeps up."

"I _did_ _not_ provoke him, Yukari! I can't help that he's an old fart with exceptionally good hearing!"

"You gonna take that, Balgus?" A customer in the corner shouted with a laugh.

The old man growled. "That's it! Get out! You're _fired_!"

"It was a _compliment_!" she shouted with her vibrant green eyes practically glowing. "I _said_ you have _good_ _hearing_! And besides, you can't fire me and you know it!"

"Watch me! Your scrawny butt can easily be replaced!"

"My butt isn't scrawny, you fat slob!"

"Really mature, you two," her friend sighed from the table over as she folded the silverware into paper napkins. She glanced to Van and said, "I'm sorry for this. They'll be done in another few minutes."

"Who will be done in a few minutes!?" The man named Balgus roared. He pointed a finger at the pixie girl and snarled, " _She_ doesn't work here anymore!"

"Whatever! Go wash your apron!" The girl rolled her eyes and poured Van the coffee he didn't want. "Sorry about that, sir. He's a moron."

"Hitomi, quit it!" the redhead said exasperated. "I'd like just one day where the two of you don't bicker like clucking hens around here!"

The girl grinned widely. "Ah, but you'd miss it if we didn't. Besides, I think Balgus' fat heart would die of boredom if I wasn't here to keep it beating properly."

"My blood-pressure would definitely be better," the old man barked.

"Maybe it would help if you didn't eat so much friggin' bacon, fatty!"

"Maybe it would help if you drove that ridiculous motorbike of yours off a bridge!"

"Maybe-"

"Cut it out!" Yukari shouted.

"Can-can I have my check, please?" Van asked with a timidly raised finger.

* * *

Stepping out of the restaurant clutching his leftovers, he took a deep breath and sighed it into the cold air. He cracked a smile as the door shut with a small bell's _ting_ and cut off what the girl was yelling. With how loud it was in there, the city was almost eerily silent. The dark and icy streets, the streetlights flickering standoffish reds and greens. There was possibly one or two people walking about with thick coats and briefcases, but most of the city's inhabitants had found their place for the night. Checking his watch, he saw it was past eleven. Damn. Merle was probably worried sick. He should have thought to get her pancakes.

He frowned and dug in his pocket for his phone. Merle should have called at least seven or eight times by now.

Dead phone.

No wonder.

Man, she was going to flay him alive for letting it die.

 _I gotta tell her about the contract, too_ … he thought sourly, stopping to cross the street. _She's going to insist on coming._

Van's adopted sister had finally turned sixteen and entered her rebellious years. Turning up one day with spiked pink hair and a headband with moving cat ears on it, Van had shrugged and said he liked her new color. Coming along on the road with a band was definitely not for a sixteen year old girl. She'd have to get a tutor to keep up with her studies. He'd have to babysit her constantly to make sure she wasn't getting into trouble.

The light turned for him to cross and he took a step forward into the street.

* * *

"That flatulent squat-head scared him off! I was going to ask for an autograph! I could have met the legendary Allen Schezar! This sucks!" Hitomi scowled, pulling the tray forward to clear the dish and coffee cup.

"You should have asked him to sing 'Vicious Webs' or something," Yukari smiled. "That's your favorite song, right? Or is it 'Cut the Breaks'?"

"No, no, 'Cut the Breaks' was from Allen's solo album. Totally not as good. And my favorite song is 'Guardians'."

Her friend frowned. "But isn't that the sappy one?"

"Hell yeah, it's sappy! It's amazing! It's poetry!" Hitomi picked up white papers off the table and pressed it to her heart. "The lyrics are breath-taking…"

"What are you cuddling?" Yukari pointed with a frown.

Blinking in surprise, Hitomi glanced down at the papers in her hands and saw Van's signature.

"Oh, god, he left something!" She scooted out of the booth and immediately headed to the door. "Maybe I can get Allen's number as a reward!"

"Wait! You forgot your coat!" Yukari called after her, but the door shut with that bell's _ting_.

Hurrying, she shivered in the cold night and searched the walkways. Spotting a silent stooped figure stopped at the cross-walk, she recognized the messy black hair and grinned.

He had just stepped forward to cross the street and she saw it like a sixth sense. The headlights of a car swerving down the wrong way of a one-way street. It was coming straight for him.

And like the runner she used to be in high school, she took off in a flash.

Van, his head still full of future Merle scolding, didn't noticed the car approaching. Suddenly, he heard a woman shout and he looked back curiously.

It was the waitress!

And she was running straight for him!

With a feeling of shock, he froze as she came closer and closer.

And that's when he saw the bright headlights coming for him in the intersection.

"WATCH OUT!" she shrieked and her body crashed into his…

Just as the car turned left…

Missing him completely…

The back of his head hit the concrete pavement and he saw black stars for several seconds. Blinking through his wavering vision, it somewhat cleared on a pair of wild green eyes. The pixie haired waitress' mouth was open in surprise. Her hands clenching the folds of his jacket, she was uncomfortably sprawled on top of his body. They were still in the middle of the empty street. She hadn't pushed him out of the way. Just knocked him over. Van turned his damaged head to look down the street and saw no car. His leftover pancakes had broken open from the fragile Styrofoam box and crowned the ground in golden syrup glory. They were scattered over white pieces of paper; honoring it brown and sticky.

And that's when it hit Van like the car that didn't:

His contract. He'd left it.

"I-I'm sorry!" she stammered her voice shaking. "I thought the car was going to get you! I am so, so sorry! I was just trying to save your life!"

"Get off of me," he grunted and she gasped as if she just realized where she was. Ungracefully moving off his body, her small hands reached for his shoulders and he hissed in pain.

"Are you okay? Your head is bleeding! You should go to the hospital! I'll drive you there!"

"No!" Van wheezed as the air came back into his lungs. "No, I think I'll be alright."

"I insist! Please, let me drive you!"

Sitting up with a groan, his vision blacked out and he closed his eyes against his rising nausea.

"My bike is only a little bit a ways near the restaurant! Come on! Stand up!" He felt strong fingers grab his right arm and pull hard.

"T-The papers," he choked on the sour bile in his throat. "I need them."

"Of course! One sec!" the waitress let go of his arm and he heard her shake the papers to knock away the broken pancake. "I am so sorry, sir! I really am!" She knelt in front of him and held the papers out just as his stomach decided to empty the newly eaten breakfast.

A bit of the vomit hit his legs and his lap, but thankfully he was spared from the most of it. The contract and the woman however…

"I… I…" Her mouth was open; her large green eyes as wide as they can go. Her pancake covered arms were shaking as they held the now not-so-white papers in front of him. A small piece of broken bacon slid off her ruined uniform and landed on the ground with an audible _slap_. Her legs were drenched in chunks of murky brown and cream.

Van's head was swimming, but he had enough sense to realize what had happened.

"I… am sorry…" he whispered in a faint voice.

She was still frozen, her face unmoving, her body trembling in his puke.

Suddenly, a car turned onto their street and gave a loud honk.

"Get off the road, ya damn crazy people! This ain't a bedroom!"

They watched together as the car maneuvered around them and continued down the street. Turning back to stare at each other, Van reached up to take the papers gently from her hands. Holding the corners that were saved from vomit, he saw her blink as if wakening from a dream and slowly stand up. Plops of goop fell from her legs and yellow dress.

"I'll go call a cab and take you to the hospital…" Her voice was airy and light.

"O-okay…" He mumbled.

"Can you move to the sidewalk?"

"I think so," he nodded – bad idea. His head was pounding.

"I'll… be right back…" Van watched her walk stiffly across the street and enter the restaurant. Scooting slowly off the middle of the road, he sat on the curb and held back another urge to vomit. Glancing down at the messy papers in his hand, a sour snort erupted from his throat. He had to give these papers back to Allen tomorrow morning. Through the incomprehensible mess he'd made on them, Van could barely make out his signature on the bottom line.

What a story this will bring, he mused with a weak smile on his face.

A large figure stepped out of the restaurant followed closely by the pixie girl. It was the dirty apron man. He marched across the street and Van felt a strange apprehension at the man's hostile demeanor.

"Are you alright, son?" the old man rumbled as he neared Van. "Let me take a look at ya and see what this imbecile's done now."

"I told you I was _trying_ to save his life!" the girl crossed her arms that were still coated in gluey puke.

"And nearly killed him in the process!"

"I think he got me back considering I'm covered in his barf!"

The old man knelt close and his mustache twitched at the smelly papers. "You're eyes are a bit dazed and I'm not liking this scratch on the back of your head. You going to the hospital."

"That's what I was trying to do!" the girl injected. "I was going to call him a cab!"

He growled and pointed at the restaurant. "Go back before you cause a meteor to hit us! You're a walking train-wreck! And you owe me a uniform!"

" _He_ owes you a uniform! It's not my barf!" she snapped, but started walking back across the street.

"Tell Yukari to go get my keys and bring the vehicle around!" he roared after her.

"I can do it!"

"Not in that, you won't! Go wash yourself and go home! You've caused enough trouble for one day!"

* * *

The ride to the hospital was not as eventful, but it still held some surprises.

"That brat is not worth having around." The old man, Balgus, grumbled from the driver-side. "This has gone too far. Knocking a man over in the street! She's a wild hooligan!"

"Why don't you fire her for real? You threatened it enough." Van asked in a raspy voice as his hair brushed back off his hot face. Despite the chilly weather, his open window was as much for Van's nausea as it was for the sour smell of the papers in his hand.

Balgus sighed through his mustache and turned on his blinker. "I can't. Made a promise to her mama that I'd watch over her. I didn't realize what I was getting into when I said yes. She used to be such a sweet little thing. Ever since she came back from dropping out of college, she's got this tough, chip-on-her-shoulder, attitude."

"She was in college?"

"Yeah." A twinkle of pride hit the old man's eye. "Straight A student in high school and got in with full scholarship to Cornish University. She was practically 4.0 till her junior year… and then she just… quit. Done. Said she hated school and came back here. I gave her the job to keep her out of trouble. She's been a pistol ever since."

"Straight A, huh?" Van mused. "What was she studying for?"

"Teaching."

* * *

A CT scan, a white bandage around his head, and a prescription for pain medication later and Van was a free man. They even gave him a folder to keep his wrinkled, disgusting papers in. Balgus had stayed with him the entire way and even offered to drive him home. Van had politely declined with a promise to stop by the restaurant tomorrow. Getting into the yellow cab, Van checked the clock on the dashboard and sighed.

Three in the morning… Merle was going to be distraught. She probably already called the police for a missing person search.

Merle… Van knew he'd have to take her with him on the road with the band. He couldn't leave her alone at the apartment. She needed guidance though. She needed someone to keep an eye on her. An image crossed his mind. The wild green eyes of the pixie haired waitress had randomly appeared. She was a straight A student with some college cred. She had training to be a teacher and would be someone that Merle would respect.

Another image of her staring shell-shocked at him in his puke made him shudder and dismiss his train of thought. His brain wasn't thinking properly. He had smacked it on the concrete. What he needed was sleep and to forget that crazy woman.

Closing his eyes, he let out a slow breath.

He hoped whenever he visited the restaurant that she wasn't working. He could go a lifetime without running into _her_ again.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn't a very lucky guy.

* * *

 **This in no way is going to be a crazy plot. It's supposed to be easy, simple, and relaxing. I wanted something I could have fun with and - I gotta tell ya - I had a blast writing this first chapter.**

 **I want every chapter to be just as insane.**

 **Welcome to the wonderful world of my ultimate playground.**

 **Also, C.T.F means 'Claim to Fame'.**

 **I looked it up.**

 **Online.**

 **blue...**


	2. 2 Quesadilla Beat Drop

**We're just going to keep going on this. :)**

 **Thank you to my lovely Beta Reader! Kerapal Bubbles is the best!**

* * *

Unlocking the door to the apartment, he peeked his head inside and let out a sigh of relief in the dark empty kitchen. He quickly opened the door to avoid the squealing hinges, and just as he successfully shut the door without any hint of a squeak, the lights flicked on over his head.

He was momentarily blinded.

"Where. Have. You. _BEEN_? I have been worried _sick_ about you!"

Van close his eyes in defeat as he bolted the door shut and turned to confront his little sister.

"Now, Merle, I-"

"Oh, my God! What happened to your head?" Her spiked pink hair was a flyaway mess as she rushed over and grabbed his arm. Pulling him to one of the kitchen chairs, her small fingers instantly poked at the bandage around his forehead.

"Kid, stop. You're going to mess up the wrapping. I'm fine. I just got knocked down."

"By what? A damn _bull_?"

"You know I don't like that language."

"You know I don't like you coming in at 3 in the _damn_ morning, _bro_ ," she responded with a quirked eyebrow. Standing over him in one of his red t-shirts, she looked like the little girl he knew so well. A smile curved on his lips as she gripped the sides of his face and her worried eyes slipped all over his head. "But seriously, what happened?"

"I… got tackled in the street…" he said hesitantly and Merle's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Who did it? I'll _kill him_."

"Well… it wasn't necessarily a _guy_ …"

Her fingers dug into his cheeks and squashed his face. "A _woman_ did _this_!?"

"Look, Merle, my head's fine. This isn't important. I have something I need to talk to you about." He put the stained folder on the table and took her hands off his face. "Sit down."

"Van, what…?" Her expression turned both curious and fearful. "You haven't spoken like that since mom and dad…"

"This is important and it concerns both of us."

Her pink hair flipped into her left eye as she obediently sat in the kitchen chair and stared him, waiting. He took a deep breath and let it go slowly. "You know how I left the White Dragons three years ago and decided to write songs as a career?"

"Your songs _will_ sell," Merle immediately jumped in. "Just give it more _time_. People go back and forth when it comes to the music industry. Yeah, sure, dub-step and remixes are all the rage, but there's a reason The Beatles are still so popular. They sang ballads and beautiful hymns and _that's_ what you're good at. People like the sensitive stuff. It'll turn around! I know it will!"

"Merle, I got an offer from Allen. He wants me back. He told me he'd use my songs and pay me double what I used to get if I rejoined the band."

The kitchen was dead quiet as Merle just gazed at him in wide disbelief. Then she snorted a laugh. "Van, you're _not_ serious."

"It's hard to read because of… reasons… but here." He scooted the folder to her. "I've already signed a contract. I had to make a decision, Merle. I'm… back in."

Her lips were curved in an unexpected grin. "No, this is impossible, Van. You know that Allen's _changed_ , right? He's not going to sing your _lyrics_ the way you want. Have you even heard what he's been producing lately?"

"I've avoided it until today," Van answered bitterly. "He's going hip-hop…"

Merle shook her head and a giggle escaped. "Not just hip-hop, bro. He's going full thug-life on the White Dragons. He's attempting heavy R&B. And I am sorry to tell you, but he's kind of popular in a bad way."

"What do you mean 'in a bad way'?"

"Let me put it so you'll understand," Merle touched a finger to her chin. "You know how things go viral on the internet even though what you are seeing is usually horrible?"

"Yeah?"

"Allen in a nutshell." She giggled again. "Except that's making him sound better than he actually is. He's a laughing stock, Van. If he tries to put a mix on your songs, it's going to crash and burn."

" _Fantastic_ ," Van sighed. "I just signed my life and music away to thirty-year-old wannabe."

"Don't do it. You don't have to give him the contract tomorrow - which smells and looks like puke, by the way." Merle made a face and a smile touched Van's lips. "It's not worth it."

"Three years I've tried to be a solo-lyricist and look where we are, kid. You had to change schools, we've moved four times, and our savings are dropping fast. Allen may be awful, but he's our means of survival. I want to provide you with a proper life. I want to put you through college. I want to see you walk across a stage with a diploma in your hand. I gotta give that to you for mom and dad. I gotta make sure you can make it..."

Merle stood from the chair and wrapped her arms around Van's neck. Burrowing her head in his neck, she said, "You're a good brother. Too good, if you ask me."

"That brings me to my other topic," Van grimaced taking her arms off his neck. "Allen told me he has a single ready to go. He showed me the demo. It's… not what I expected, but if I provide the rest of the album _and_ I'm able to give him one more hit single there's the possibility we will be catching onto his tour. He wants this to happen by next month if we can manage it."

"Next _month?_ " Merle gasped. "Next month and you'll be on tour!? You haven't even given him the papers yet and you're already planning a tour!? You'll be leaving me behind!? You're not going to do that! I refuse to stay here-"

"No, no, no, kid. You didn't let me finish. I've already decided I'll be taking you with me if that happens."

Merle's dark eyes widened and her expression did a 180 to joy. "Van, you're taking me on _tour_ with you? I'll get out of school and come with you!? I'll be traveling all over the country!?" She leapt up and jumped on the balls of her feet. "I won't have to be in school anymore!"

"Not so fast!" Van grinned at her happiness. "I'm getting you a tutor. You are going to continue your education on the road. And this isn't set in stone. I'm letting you know the plan in case the two singles go well. _If_ we gain enough popularity with the album-"

"I'll make sure of it! I'll sell them myself! All of my friends will own two copies each! No, _five!_ One on their phones, two on their computers, one on the iPads, and I know Kendra has a Kindle somewhere…"

"No bullying people to buy music!" Van laughed and checked the stove. "It's 4 in the morning, kid! You have school! Go to bed!"

"You won't be able to say that once you go on tour, bro!" Merle cheered as she scampered back to her bedroom.

" _If_ , kid! I said, _if!"_

* * *

Hitomi's phone sang from the coffee table and she groaned. Already six in the morning. It felt like she'd just laid down. Grabbing the noisy electronic, she shut off the alarm and willed herself to sit up. Running a hand through her short locks, she grabbed a half-full water bottle and drained it. Shifting out of the blankets draped on the squashy couch, she stretched and headed for the shower.

" _Geezus_ , piece of bitch-ass furniture!" she screamed as she slammed her knee on the cabinet door. "Damn it, Yukari! You never _shut_ this thing!"

"Shut up!" her friend called from the dark bedroom next over.

Grumbling, she took a quick shower and, with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, picked out her clothes for day from her large suitcase. Dressing in the nicest pants she owned and a flowery blouse, she rinsed her mouth out, grabbed her lesson bag, and headed out the door for her motorcycle.

* * *

Van didn't usually walk Merle to school, but it seemed like a good day to make sure she actually entered the building – or at least made it to the school yard. Tucking the stained folder under his arm, he followed her swaying little ponytail.

"Seriously, bro. You don't have to come. I'm fine walking by myself."

"You were up late last night. This is just to make sure you don't run off to take a nap somewhere," Van gave her a stern look.

"Geez, I only did that twice!" Merle groaned. "You make a big deal out of everything. And besides, what's the point in going to this stupid school if I won't be here next month?"

"The tour isn't set in stone, kid!"

"I _know._ I _know._ One can dream, can't they?"

Van stopped at the crosswalk and Merle rolled her eyes. He was such a stickler for the rules. Not a car in sight and he had to wait for _permission_ from a stupid light to tell him to cross the street.

"When are you going to see Allen?"

"After I drop off you." He said quietly. She knew that tense wrinkle in-between his eyebrows.

"Bro, you don't _have_ to. We can figure something else out. I can get a part-time job or something."

"I've decided, kid. I'll try this one more time. Who knows? Maybe we can pull this off and be millionaires." The wrinkle increased to his forehead and she sighed. A loud rumbling noise growled from around the corner, but both were too lost in their thoughts to pay attention. The light signaled their safety and they stepped off the curb.

Just as a motorcycle sped dangerously around the corner-

" _Merle_!" Van gasped, and dropped the contract folder to pushing his sister out of the way. She stumbled forward with a scream. The driver pulled hard on the brakes and twisted the front wheel dangerously to the left. He stood transfixed as the driver leapt like a lioness from the seat and the bike tipped over to its side; scraping along the road right in front of Van. It stopped short right in front of him and the wheel hit the fallen folder, ripping the entire thing in half.

"Van! My God! Are you okay?" Merle shrieked, running up to him.

Van, his eyes staring at his near death experience, watched the figure behind the smoking bike straighten from where they'd landed on their feet and rip the black helmet off their head. His heart clenched and his stomach dropped to his knees at the sight of a pixie-haircut. The woman shook her head and turned towards them. Van's fears were confirmed. Her yellow uniform had been replaced with brown pants and a blouse. Her sparking green eyes flickered over to him briskly as if she didn't recognize him and then swiveled down to her wrecked bike.

This was the last person he'd wanted to see.

"What the _hell_!?" Merle shouted at the woman stepping forward. "Are you _insane_!? Are you trying to- wait _…_ Miss _Hitomi?!_ "

"You know her?" Van asked, shaking from his rushing adrenaline.

"She's a volunteer at the school," Merle answered with a piercing scowl. "Not that anyone _wants_ her to be there. She's a _horrible_ tutor."

The woman tilted her head thoughtfully and ignored the insult. "Merle Fanel, is it? Headed to school?"

"Where else would I be headed to?" Merle spat with her hands on her hips. "You should watch where you're going! You almost killed us, you psychopath! We could sue you for this! Bro, call the cops! They'll drag her off to jail where she belongs!"

The woman let out a snort at his sister and pent to pick up her bike. Checking it over quickly, she clicked her tongue at a long scratch on the side. Dragging the heavy motorcycle to the curb, Van was still transfixed.

He felt his sister grab his arm and pull. "Come on. Let's get out of the road before _another_ _crazy_ _driver_ comes along. Let's call the police. They'll get rid of her." But Van took a step towards the woman; bringing Merle along.

"Van, wha-"

"Do you remember me?" He asked the pixie woman. She was mounting her bike, but her green eyes flicked up to catch his. "What?"

"Do you remember me from last night? I ate at the restaurant." He pointed at the bandage around his head.

Her mouth fell open as the recognition hit home. "You… barfed on me…"

" _What?_ " Merle cried.

"After you pushed me over and I hit my head." Van added darkly.

"I _said_ I was trying to save your life!" The woman snapped back. "God, that'll teach me for trying to be a good person!"

"The car wasn't anywhere near me!"

"I didn't know that it would turn left! It looked like it was coming straight for you!"

"Like you were doing just now!" Van shouted. "Showed up to finish me off, huh?"

"I'm here for _school_!" she roared back. "Almost running over you was an unlucky coincidence!"

"You have no excuse to yell at me! You could have killed me and my sister! You're not even apologetic about it!"

" _Sorry!_ " she cried out, her green eyes wild and dangerous. "You want to _sue_ me? Get in line!" She kicked her bike alive and it snarled loudly. The siblings watched her swivel on the road and speed off towards the school. Turning away from her, Van glanced down at the ripped folder scattered on the road and pushed down the urge to growl in frustration.

"She's _awful_ ," Merle hissed with distain as the rumbling faded away. "I don't know why she even bothers showing up there. She isn't very good at teaching."

"She volunteers?" Van asked with the same look of irritation picking up the pieces of paper. Together, they crossed the street just as the pedestrian walk signal turned red.

"Yeah, she's been there for about a year now. My school lets her because she works for free. Shows what a wonderful school I go to. They let a lunatic like her around _kids_." Her pink fringe flipped as she looked at her brother. "So, _she's_ the one who knocked you over last night? How in the hell did that even happen? She's at least a foot shorter than you! You couldn't even hold your ground against her? That's pathetic."

"Kid…" Van sighed and closed his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

* * *

"What in the…" Allen took off his white star-shaped sunglasses to stare at the ripped, stained, and smelly papers of Van's contract. Allen's long nose wrinkled as he nudged the papers closer with a finger. "Dude, I can't … I just _can't_ right now…"

"You can still see the signature. I signed it." Van sat forward in the leather chair and pointed at the barely readable line of ink.

"It reeks like ralph."

"Yeah, well, I had an accident."

Allen smirked despite the smell. "Got turnt up AF last night? I know that feel, brah. That hit looks good on you, by the way. Maybe you should have the renegade look and we can put bandages on ya. All thug and shit, or nah?"

"Uh, _sure_ , whatever." Van shrugged hiding his confusion at the blonde's strange words. "You've got your contract. I can email the song I have in mind for the single when I get home."

Allen clapped his hands. "Good to see you're ready to slay! My fam, Chid, is out ATM, but he should BRB. He's the one who remixed the new song. A regular protégé, brah. I wanted to show you the first single's drop. It's final, man, Totes final. They'll be dead when they hear it."

" _Dead?_ " Van asked bewildered. Allen ignored him and pressed a button on the remote resting on his couch. A stereo behind Van lightened up and a metrological beat started thumping from the speakers. Van watched Allen's foot bounce in time with the music. The blonde put his glasses back on and lifted a finger in the air. The music was drifting higher and higher in a weird spiraling sound. Suddenly, all the music cut off.

"That's it?" Van quirked an eyebrow.

"Chill on it…"

"Chill on what-"

 **BOOOM**! The speaker gave a loud blast as the music burst into a rigorous pulsation that Van jumped in his seat. "Sweet Jesus, turn it down!" He yelled, his voice barely carrying over the pounding vibration.

Allen laughed as he switched down the music and Van heard a slight ringing in the back of his ear.

"God, Allen, how are you not deaf?"

"I'm flex, brah." His old friend smiled. "I'm on fleek. So, whaddya think? Burn the floor, amirite?"

"What is the name of it?"

" _Quesadilla_. Final, right? I wanted to ask ya to pick sumthin' 'bout food from your song list, brah. We're mellowing about a food themed album, dig it?"

Looking at his friend's casual smile, straight billed hat, and tacky sunglasses, Van felt the pit of his stomach fall to his knees for the second time that day. "I'm not sure about this, Allen. You know me, man. You know what I can do. I'm… not _this_. Can I even play the guitar with this kind of music?"

"Sure, brah! Not on the single releases, but the album can be basic."

"Basic…" Van shook his head slowly. "What constitutes this song to be about quesadillas? How can lyrics even be put with… with… what I just heard _?_ Why do you even need me if this is what you want? You're a completely different person now, Allen. I'm not sure I can keep up."

Allen's smile slipped off his lips and he straightened up.

He gestured to the contract. "I'm willing to sign on and be a part of this again. I need the money. I'm just worried I'm not what you want."

Sitting forward, Allen took off his hat and glasses. Van saw the tired flicker in his blue eyes. He ran long fingers through his blond locks. With a sigh, he finally spoke plainly.

"The thing is, I _can't_ do it alone, Van. Ever since you broke from the White Dragons, it just hasn't been the same. I've tried, man. I've _tried_ to keep up with the times, but this isn't working. Not like it used to be. We had _something_ when we played together on stage. The two of us belting our lungs out for a screaming crowd. Throwing it down on guitar and keyboard. We were a team. I just feel like… like if I had my best friend by my side again, I could make it. We could be a team again. We could stand up together and show them that we are important still."

"But… why, man? Why do we have to prove we are still important like _this?_ Why not do it the way we know how?"

"Because, brah!" Allen put his sunglasses back on and his smile was back. "You part of ma squad, hommie. And my hommies never give me shade."

* * *

It was later-afternoon when Van finally left Allen's apartment and headed for the little dive restaurant. Chid, Allen's nephew, came in after several hours and Van realized where Allen had gotten his new lingo. The boy was dangerous looking. Pierced gaged ears, tattoos down his neck and shoulders, and his blond hair shaved, Chid gave Van a cold look before heading to the back room and slamming the door shut.

"Love ma fam," Allen had said with a sparkling grin. "His old lady sent him to stay with me 'cuz he got a warrant in his state."

"He won't be traveling with us, right?" Van had asked worriedly thinking about Merle.

"He says he don't want no part of our shit except for his cut in remixing."

A sense of relief had hit him, but it was immediately tarnished when Allen asked him what type of food his single was going to be about.

Van avoided the answer by changing the subject. One thing he'd learned quickly was this new Allen was very distractible.

"How are we going to perform? Without the guitar and keyboard, we can't just stand there, right?"

And then the ball was dropped.

Allen had clasped his hands together happily.

"We'll be dancing hip-hop together!"

Tucking into his jacket from the cold, Van felt weary. How did his world get so crazy? Was money really that hard to come by that he had to sell himself and his pride for it? Dancing to hip-hop songs? Writing music about food? Speaking like he was a fifteen-year-old thug?

Seeing the dive's sign from a block away, Van gave a reluctant smile. Maybe the single should be about pancakes. Or the story of how he puked it all over the waitress after she tackled him to the ground. He shook his head and the smile disappeared.

There was nothing _sexy_ about that.

Allen wouldn't want it. Those were his _old_ songs. Now he had to write about making food sound like sex.

 _Great._

Pancakes sounded like panties… he could work with that…

A loud growling noise erupted from behind him and he turned his head to see a black motorcycle racing down the street. Maybe he could write about how the waitress' green eyes reminded him of large green olives… He snorted a laugh. Olives were _less than_ sexy. And anything about that waitress was probably unlucky anyway.

It was better if he stayed as far away from that waitress as possible. Check in with Balgus and never look back after.

He stopped in front of the door to the restaurant and squared his shoulders. The smell of breakfast wafted over him and his stomach growled. Maybe he'd stay for a meal…

Suddenly, the door slammed open violently and the door handle hit him hard in the groin. Van doubled over in agony as a yellow uniformed waitress stomped out. Tears welled in his eyes and his entire body seized up like he was dying. Falling to his knees rocking back and forth with his trembling hands clutching the front of his pants, he looked up into the wide eyes of the pixie waitress.

"Son of a…" she hissed with rage. "Just what I need! Why are _you_ here?"

Van couldn't speak. His lips trembled with possible words, but all he could emit were squeaks of pain.

"What have you done _now_?" Balgus' familiar snarl echoed from the restaurant. His large head peeked around the woman and he dropped his spatula. Brushing past her, he rested his hand on Van's shoulder and said, "Son, what's she done to ya!? Speak to me! Are you okay?"

"My… My…" his voice was a soft whisper. People were beginning to stop walking and watch him from the street.

"Come on in, boy. I'll get you some ice," Balgus rumbled and his hands moved to lift Van by his arm-pits. "You get out of the way!" He barked at the pixie waitress and she rolled her eyes.

Leaning on the large man, Van heard her say loudly behind his head, "I didn't _mean_ to hit him. You told me to move my bike! I was just doing what I was told!" She picked up the fallen spatula and tapped it on her leg.

"Can't you do anything properly without creating collateral damage?" the old man growled back. Heading to the booth he was in yesterday, Van sat gently and noticed a familiar pink head in the table next over.

" _Merle_?" his voice cracked.

* * *

 **And the insanity will continue soon. I'm working on all of my stories right now. This one has such small chapters that it's easier to finish and post. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **It will only get crazier from here on out.**

 **Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, favorites, and alerts! You make my day happy with sunshine and rainbows.**

 **Tootles!**

 **blue...**


	3. 3 (Pan)caking on the Mistakes

**Can I just say that having a Beta Reader is friggin' amazing? I still edit it myself to an extent, but to have someone who will read over my crap and make it not crappy is the BEST. Thank you so much, Kerapal Bubbles! Also, she did this while she was sick. T_T**

… **. That face looks like FNaF to me now. Horrible video game…**

 **What was I writing about here?**

* * *

His sister's pink head was bent over her iPhone with the redheaded waitress from yesterday. They looked completely absorbed in whatever they were watching.

" _Merle?"_ his voice cracked.

Her neck snapped up and she gasped, "Bro! What are you _doing_ here!?"

"I could ask the same about you," he said weakly. His stomach churned horribly as his groin throbbed in pain again. "I came to see the owner because he drove me yesterday fr-"

"This is perfect! I was trying to text you before, but your phone is dead or something! Look!" Merle rushed over with her phone, her dark eyes wild with excitement. "Everyone in school is talking about it! I can't believe how fast this has spread! I just had to come and actually see the place with my own eyes!"

"What's spread?" Van asked bewildered. "What are you talking about?"

"You're _still_ going on about that?" The pixie waitress complained as she grabbed a washrag and bucket from behind the counter. "I had to deal with harassment all day! I couldn't even teach properly. I deal with enough crap in my life."

"It's kind of _cool_ ," her friend chimed in from behind Merle's head. "Admit it, Hitomi. We've gotten more business today than ever."

"No, it's stupid."

Balgus came from the back door with a bag of frozen hash brown patties in hand. Heading over, he scowled at Merle as he handed the cold bag over. Van gently placed the bag on his crotch with a wince.

"I told you to go home if you're not going to eat anything, Pinky!"

"I'm here with my brother now!" Merle stuck out her tongue and Van's eyebrows rose.

"She's been bothering you, sir?" Van asked.

"She's been making noise and disturbing my customers!"

"My _brother's_ the reason you've had so much business today!" Merle shot back.

Van frowned at Merle. "Mind your manners, kid. What business? What are you _talking_ about?"

Merle shoved the phone in his hands and pressed play. A shaky video of a dark street appeared. A heavy-jacketed figure was crossing the street. Van's painful stomach gave a jolt.

It was _him!_

"Someone taped the entire thing! They even got you throwing up on her! It was uploaded last night on Twitcher and this morning _everyone_ was talking about it! It's gone crazy viral!"

Van watched as Hitomi tackled him to the ground just as the car turned left on the street and winced. "This… isn't good…"

" _How!?_ " Merle cried out. "Van, this is _perfect!_ You're trying to boost popularity with White Dragons, right? This is what you want!"

"I thought you said horrible viral was a bad thing?"

"It's not when it gets you the attention you need! Think about it! Everyone will figure out who you are and when you drop a new single, it's going to be raging!"

"Please, speak normal. I can't handle any more weird slang today." Van made a face as the video showed him projectile vomit all over Hitomi's uniform. It was _awful_. "Who taped it?"

"Someone with the username Dilly_flames69. Stupid name if you ask me." Merle's hands were on her hips. "He's getting so many hits off of something _you_ did. But it was his recording equipment, so he owns it. Totally ridiculous."

Yukari stood and looked out the window. "It looks like it was taped from higher up. Maybe the apartment over that bakery across the street. We could figure out who lives there and ask about it."

"'Dilly_flames69' doesn't sound like a stable person," Hitomi injected, wiping a table with her washcloth. "The entire thing is dumb. I would leave the weird stalker alone."

The video ended to show the emblem of a computer generated robot shooting fire from its hands. Van felt weak as he handed the phone back to his sister.

"It's got over 800,000 views and I haven't refreshed it in a couple of minutes. I bet it's at one million now!" Merle chirped happily. "You could use this, Van. This could be something you add on your music video or something. We have to buy the video from him!"

" _What_?!" Both Hitomi and Van exclaimed together. She dropped her rag with a splat and he almost dropped the frozen hash browns from his crotch.

"You guys are writing more music!?" the pixie waitress rushed forward. "The White Dragons are coming back?!"

Van groaned and wanted to hide underneath the booth. "Not really…"

"You _know_ about them?" Merle asked with a frown. It was strange to see the delighted smile on the waitress' face as she nodded, her wide eyes glowing excitedly.

"Of course, I do! I have a ton of their old music!" she confessed proudly. "I still rock out to 'Killing in the Rain' when it comes on the mix station."

"'Killing in the Rain' was Van's song! He wrote that!" The pink girl announced loudly. Balgus grumbled audibly from the back counter. "Bro, _she's_ your _fan?_ "

"You wouldn't have known from this morning…" Van said darkly feeling a heat of embarrassment. "Look, it's not what you think. I just signed on to 'help' Allen out. I need the money and he needs the music, so we are mutually helping each other-"

"He's going to be performing again, too!" Merle interrupted excitedly.

"No way!"

"That hasn't been decided yet-" Van injected.

"They're going to go on tour and take me with them! It's going to be awesome AF!"

"You're going on tour!? That's so _cool_!" Hitomi grinned. "I can't _believe_ you guys are back together."

"Is anyone even listening to me?" Van asked in defeat. Yukari smiled kindly at him and shrugged.

"When are you going to release the new album? I want to buy the first one!" Hitomi said happily.

Merle glanced over at Van with a smug look. "Told you I could sell albums."

* * *

Van sat at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. Songs about food that had to be sexy, performances dancing to hip-hop, and a music video of him projectile vomiting all over a poor girl. He groaned as his newly charged phone whistled in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw the text message and groaned again.

' _W8ing on da new digs. Come tmw. Recording Quesa dis weekend. Bring wat ya got.'_

Van set the phone back down and glanced over the three year's worth of songs. Binders and binders organize by style, rhythm, and theme were stacked high in front of him.

"Something about food… sexy food…" Just saying the words out loud made him shudder in the ridiculousness of it all. Reluctantly opening the first binder, Van's heart sank even further at the name of the first song he saw.

'Sweet as a Fairy'….

Picking up his pencil, he crossed out the title and wrote 'Sweet as a Cherry'.

Seven cups of coffee and five hours later, he finally finished revising twenty songs. Clipping them all in a binder, he looked over his destroyed masterpiece of ballads. A sharp burn hit his throat and he went to the kitchen to pour more coffee. He kept his back to the table.

He couldn't look at it.

He hated himself.

His grip shook on the cup; he put it down on the counter next to a pen and pad of paper.

High on caffeine, lack of sleep, and self-hate, he bitterly pulled the pad of paper closer and began to write. Hardly glancing over the lyrics once he was done, he tore the paper off the pad and shoved it roughly into the book.

Why the hell not?

* * *

"THIS IS TOTES AMAZA!" Allen cheered as he flipped over the twenty songs Van had brought with him. Tearing them apart for money was bad enough, but having the blonde man read each of the titles out loud was the _worst._ Lifting a hand to scratch under the red bandana wrapped around his forehead, Allen nodded his head in approval.

"'Her Pink Plum', 'Gobble the Cobbler', 'Packaged Meat', 'Cheesy Sandwiches'… Brah, you're a _wizard_."

"Yeah, sure," Van murmured, biting his thumbnail. "You can pick whatever you want for the single."

Allen reached underneath the couch and brought out a small lap keyboard. Turning back to 'Her Pink Plum', his expert fingers flickered through Van's written notes. Despite the horrible words written underneath, the music itself was so familiar that Van's spirit actually lifted a bit. He remembered how he wrote the original song, 'Her Pink Hair,' for Merle's change of hairstyle several months back. He never told her he wrote song about her extreme makeover.

It didn't matter anyways. The song was no longer about her.

"We can totes swerve this part to get a build-up and then when the chorus hits, we can drop the beat. That's when ya can start a chant of 'Pink Plum' that the crowd will join in with, brah. You've got the lower vocals to get the stir! You're on fleek wit dat, amirite?"

"Fine." Van's thumb was almost bleeding as he chewed the skin around the nail. "Just tell me what you want to do."

"Wait. What's this one?" Allen's fingers had moved back to flipping through the book and landed on a simple piece of lined paper.

The one that Van had jotted down just last night.

"Oh, that," he said a grimace. "I wrote it last night. It's not any good. Don't use it."

"'Parked in a booth;  
A sweet hits my tooth;  
Pancake on my plate;  
Don't care that it's late;  
Olive green eyes;  
Perfect shaped thighs;  
Short yellow dress _(Pour more syrup)_ ;  
Girl, I'm impressed'."

Allen read the lyrics with a grin. "Braaaaah, this is good!"

"No, it stupid. Something that just popped in my head." Van shook his head quickly. "Look at 'Cheesy Sandwiches'. That one might work for the single-"

"Tangle in her thread;  
Peanut butter spread;  
Layer on the stack;  
All over them flapjack;  
Shakin' those hips;  
Lickin' round lips;  
Breakfast delight _(pour more syrup);_  
Pancake all night."

Allen stopped reading and his blue eyes were wide. "This is number _one_. Does it have music set yet?"

"Stop! No! You're not using that one!" Van shouted.

He reached for the binder, but Allen's long arms grabbed the book before he could even try. Allen held the book to his chest and awkwardly read:

"'Forget the leftovers. We're all alone; _(pour more syrup x2)_  
Get her dress soaked to the bone; _(pour more syrup x2)_  
I'm using her body to make a platter; _(More syrup x2)_  
And spray her with my pancake batter' - Brah, this chorus is _gold_."

"No, it isn't!" He could feel his cheeks growing red. "It's really not something you'd want to use!"

Allen put the binder next to him on the couch and played a chord on his keyboard. "This bottom part is the bridge?

'Lick the plate clean. Done fooling around;  
No crumbs have fallen to the ground;  
My desire; _(more)_  
I never tire; _(more)_  
Starvation; _(more)_  
Temptation; _(more)_  
The round shapes;  
Of Pancakes;  
The sugar taste;  
Leave none to waste;  
She's all turned up;  
Now pour more syrup _(pour more syrup x3)_ '"

The image of Hitomi's excited face at the prospect of their new album raced into Van's frantic mind and his heart sped up a mile. "Please… please, can we _not_ do this one?"

"Van, this is cha-ching, brah! _This_ is what I've been looking for! You made pancakes hot as heelll! Easy money! I think I can even _rap_ the bridge part. Let's make this the first single, brah! Record it this weekend!

"I _said_ I didn't want to use it."

"Brah, why not?" Allen's eyebrow quirked underneath his red bandana. "I thought you needed dough? _This…_ " the blonde gestured to the paper. "This is _it_. This is our ticket in. It _slays!_ "

Van's face dropped in his hands and he exhaled long and low. A headache was beginning to bloom.

Allen took that as a sign of surrender.

"You mad flex, brah! Let's slap some tune and slip it to Chid when he's back. He'll mix it real good."

* * *

It was a long day already, but Hitomi smiled as she leaned forward over the girl's desk and put her finger on the formula. "It's better when you make a song out of it. That's how I memorized the quadratic formula."

"Oh, my God, this is too looong," the girl complained. "It's already four! I want to go home."

"You're signed up for extra tutoring. Sorry, but you have to stay until five. And look, it's actually quite simple when you put the equation in the calculator. See?" Hitomi plugged in the numbers and showed the graph. "It's making a curve! That's how you know you got it right. Just plug the numbers in the right spot. You have to read the sentence and figure out through context clues what goes where."

"Here's a context clue: when will I ever use this shit?" She tossed her long blonde hair over one shoulder and crossed her arms.

 _Don't snap._

The pixie haired woman pressed her lips together and pushed down her inner anger. Taking a deep soothing breath she said sweetly, "To pass tenth grade, you have to use it. To get out of this school, you have to use it. It's important because in order for you to make it in this world, you have to know the quadratic formula. You may not use it after this grade, but for right now, this is your ticket to a diploma."

"Yeah, and what did getting a diploma do for _you?_ A waitress who gets ralphed on by strangers in the middle of the night?"

Hitomi closed her eyes to quell her fiery rage. _Don't snap. Don't snap. Don't snap._

"Let's just move on to number two…" she said through gritted teeth as a bead of sweat ran down the side of her face.

"No! I've had enough of this bull-shit! It's stupid as fuck! You don't even care! You just want to talk about fucking Quartzo Formula or some shit!"

 _Don't snap. Don't snap. Don't snap. Don't snap._

"It's called the _Quadratic_ Form-"

"Why don't you shove a ruler up your ass and go back to your night job?! No wonder you're a pathetic waitress. Some _basic_ _bitch_ who can't get a proper job!"

 _Don't snap -_

She stopped.

Her green eyes zeroing in on the blonde girl, she whispered, "What… did you just call me?"

"Basic. Bitch." The girl sneered.

 _SNNNNNNAP_.

"Basic… Let's go over the word 'basic', shall we?" Her eyes grew wider as her anger flared hotter. "Basic: forming an essential foundation or starting point."

"What- _ever_ ," the girl scoffed. "Get over it and stop kidding yourself."

But Hitomi couldn't get over it.

Not yet anyway.

A crooked smile twisted on her lips and she leaned closer to the girl. There was a desk between them, but the girl backed away with a frown.

"If used in chemistry terms, to say that I am basic would mean I have a pH greater than seven. That means if I wanted to, I could burn all your pretty hair off. I could shred your skin and melt your bones."

The girl's mouth fell open, but Hitomi still wasn't done. Leaning even closer, she hissed, "But let us use your definition of the word. In Urban Dictionary's terminology: an adjective used to describe any person, place, or activity involving obscenely obvious behavior, dress, or action, ie: unsophistication. Now let us compare the behaviors of the both of us during this tutor session. You have insulted me, refused to learn, and called me a 'bitch'. I am here to help you with _basic_ algebra and you are the one who can't seem to muster the _brainpower_ to learn it. Instead, you want the world handed to you on a silver platter. Newsflash, sweetheart, the world's not coming. Years from now, you will be left behind to rot; to fester in your own self-hate until you can't stand to glance in a mirror! And then you'll look back at this moment; this _one_ moment when you had a volunteer tutor who wanted to help you! You'll see that I wasn't Urban Dictionary's term of basic or chemistry's definition of it. I was the first definition. I was forming a _starting_ _point_ for you to pull yourself out of your own ass and make something of yourself in this damn world! So, in that light, you're half right. I am basic. But I think we both know who the real _bitch_ is in this room!"

The girl's chair had been tipping back through the entire speech. Blue eyes locked on electric green. Slowly, Hitomi straightened up and the legs of the blonde's chair fell safely back to the floor with a _thump._

"Now, let's work on number two," Hitomi smiled.

* * *

"You got the songs together?" Merle asked that evening as she scooped up the takeout spaghetti onto her plate.

Van found that he wasn't hungry. His head still ached from the long day.

"We put together the album's list, but most of today was spent composing the first single. Allen scheduled the old studio for this weekend, so we can get started on it," he answered, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Merle, this was a horrible decision. I should never have come back to the White Dragons. I wrote a song and it's not what I _meant_ … This is going to be the most _embarrassing_ -"

"Yeah, okay, so listen," Merle interrupted flicking her pink hair out of her face. "I found the dude that taped the video."

Van's arms dropped to the kitchen table with a thump. "You _did_? How?"

"Don't be mad, but I ditched school and went to the bakery that the Yukari chick was talking about. I went in and they said a guy lives upstairs. He works the ovens part-time in the morning. I saw him leaving his apartment this afternoon. He's creepy looking."

" _Come on, kid_ …" Van's head pulsed painfully. "I don't want you going to that bakery if there's a creepy guy there. And I said before that I don't want the video. _And_ I haven't even _started_ about you skipping school-"

"What does Allen think?" she asked, rolling her eyes and taking out her phone.

Van frowned. "No phones at the table and I haven't said anything to him. That lunatic doesn't need to know anything. He'll just make an already bad situation worse."

Her lips curled into a wicked grin as she rapidly typed on the screen. Then she put her phone in her pocket and picked up her fork. Twirling the spaghetti lightly, she caught his eyes and tilted her head innocently.

"What?"

"Meeerrrle…" Van growled darkly. "What did you just do?"

"Oh, you'll see… in about three minutes," she replied sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

It was less than thirty seconds.

Van's pocket vibrated and he checked the caller ID.

 _Allen._

He slowly looked at his sister, who was picking up her plate.

"I'm going to go eat in my room! Bye!" she giggled as she ran out of the room. A moment later he heard the door to her bedroom slam shut.

Van's eyes closed for a brief moment to steady himself before answering the call.

"H-Hello?"

"BRAH! We got a music video!"

* * *

 **The thing I love about this story is the simplicity. There's no convoluted back story – kinda. There's no mystery – kinda. AND I get to make the insanity just crazier and crazier. Which I plan on doing in the next chapter. They are short and fun and so easy on my poor noggin. Sometimes you want to drop all your other intricately webbed stories and just write a song about sexy pancakes.**

 **Annnnd that's what I did. I wrote a song about pancakes. Sexy. Pancakes. I did it at work. So, essentially I got** _ **paid**_ **for writing a song about sexy pancakes. Lol!**

 **I can see it now…**

 **Boss: "So… what did you accomplish today as your mission for success, Mrs. Young?"**

 **Me: "Well, I finished sorting the run tickets for the month, completed the weekly plan, and I WROTE A SONG ABOUT SEXY PANCAKES, DERP!1!1"**

 **Annnnnnd fired.**

 **Blue…**


	4. 4 The Fall of Chips and Bagel Bites

**Let's continue this insanity, _shall we?_ Love to Kerapal Bubbles, my wonderful Beta Reader! She's the best! *waving pom poms*  
**

* * *

Hitomi collapsed on the couch in her yellow uniform and kicked off her shoes. Yukari followed her in and locked the front door. It was well past one in the morning and they both smelled like bacon and fried hash browns.

"Man, today was _awful_. I've never seen Balgus run out of syrup before," Yukari sighed coming forward to sit on the coffee table. "The restaurant made a ton of money tonight, but God, I don't know if we can handle another night of this. The old man's going to have to go on another supply run and we just got a delivery two days ago. I know we should count our blessings with the restaurant's success, but we're going to need a bigger place and more help if this keeps going."

"It's all because of that stupid video," Hitomi muttered into the itchy fabric of the old couch. " _Geez,_ the entire thing is a pain in the ass. I'm getting problems from the school, too. My tutoring session was less than stellar this afternoon. 'The waitress who got barfed on in the middle of the street'. Not a great title to have when you're teaching high school brats."

"I don't know why you even go there." Her friend shook her auburn hair out of the ponytail and her long locks fell over her shoulders. "It's not worth the time and sleep. The stories you come home with… I'm surprised you haven't gotten _attacked_ at that ghetto school."

"Punks I can handle. I'm more scared of what this world is turning into."

"Alright, superhero, at least sleep in tomorrow morning. I'm worried about your health," Yukari said kindly. "You look exhausted."

Hitomi turned on her back and stared at the ceiling. "I've been exhausted ever since I ran into that Van Fanel guy the other night. He's turned my world all crazy. I don't know how I keep running into him."

Yukari had a small smile on her face. " _Literally_ running into him."

"Ha, ha," she mumbled. "Better rein in that comedy or we'll have another viral video on our hands."

"Oh, such sass tonight." Yukari's smirk turned thoughtful. "I thought you were his fan or something."

"I _am_. I can like his work and not like him as a person, Yukari."

"Why not like him as a person? He doesn't seem too bad. He actually looks like a nice guy."

Hitomi rolled her eyes. "You like him so much? Why don't you date him?"

Yukari was silent for a brief moment. "Maybe I will. He's cute in that brooding kind of way. I do like that 'Breathing Relief' song from several years ago by the White Dragons. Those lyrics are so inspiring. A soul behind a song like that is worth getting to know."

"Too bad the only time I see him is when I'm about to kill him on accident. He might end up dead before you can even ask him out."

Yukari stood, stretched, and moved to unzip the back of her yellow dress. "Are you going to change out of your uniform?"

Hitomi grinned. "Why? I'm just going to be wearing it tomorrow."

"Lazy-ass," her friend giggled and slapped Hitomi's stomach. "If Balgus yells at you tomorrow for a wrinkled uniform, I'm not defending you."

"Whatever, it's not like the old fart washes his clothes anyway. I swear he sleeps in that apron."

Yukari walked to her room and sighed. "You two are made for each other. Good night, weirdo."

"Goodnight."

* * *

" _Hitomi_!" Yukari's frantic voice punched through her sleeping oblivion. Sitting up from the couch with dazed green eyes, Hitomi stared at her friend uncomprehendingly.

" _Whaaaaza_?"

"Balgus just called! He needs us!"

" _Whaaaa_? What time is it?"

"6 o'clock in the morning!"

"Nooooooope." Hitomi rolled over and settled back into her blankets.

Yukari was finishing zipping up her yellow uniform and scooped her disheveled hair into a ponytail. " _Get up,_ Hitomi! We have to go to work! He's getting stampeded with customers! He said it's a mad house and he needs all hands on deck. Oh! But one of us to pick up an extra crate of syrup from Plaktu's Corner."

"Plaktu's Corner?" Hitomi yawned and followed it up with a groan. "Ohhhh, man! Why does it have to be _that_ place?"

"Balgus called everyone he knew and Plaktu was the only one with an entire crate of extra syrup bottles in stock. He paid an hour ago over the phone, so the crate is ours. He just needs someone to go get it-"

"NOT IT!" Hitomi shouted kicking off the blankets. She stood proudly before her friend in a wrinkled uniform.

"What do you mean? I have to take the bus! _You_ have a motorcycle." The redhead pulled on her converses and tied the shoe strings while balancing on one foot. "You're it no matter what."

"Nope. Can't. Plaktu banned me from his store, remember?"

Yukari stopped short with her eyebrows up. "Is that the store where you _accidentally_ knocked over an entire display of red wine?"

"God, who would showcase _wine_ at a rundown place like that?" Hitomi snorted, crossing her arms. "It's too small to begin with. Absolutely no room to even walk down the aisles! And why in the hell would _anyone_ buy _wine_ at a drug store? Yuck!"

"You have the transportation. _You_ get the syrup." Yukari's face fell slightly at Hitomi's scowl. " _Please_ be civil enough to actually get the crate. It's awesome that we are getting so much business, but you know I can't have Balgus close his doors for supplies for even _one day_. I need the tip money for-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Hitomi grinned and moved around the couch to grab her friend's shoulders. "No worries. I'll take care of it. I'm just giving you a hard time. I've got this, girl! It's _me,_ right? I'll charm the bastard… somehow…"

"My fate is in your hands," Yukari scoffed gently.

* * *

Van brushed past a tall guy in a dark hoodie to pick up a large bottle of aspirin and a grimace spread on his lips. With Merle at school – _hopefully_ – and a few hours to spare before he had to meet with Allen, Van stood at the drug store shelf fighting a ridiculous battle with himself. He usually avoided taking pain medication, but his chronic stress headache was beginning to mess with his vision. A small black spot in the corner of his left eye winked at him like an unwanted friend. As much as he'd love to blame Allen or Merle or even that pixie waitress for his pain, Van knew he could only blame himself for this. The entire music thing had been his decision.

He knew he had to swallow his pride and suffer the consequences of his selfish actions. The Pancake Song was a burden he would have to shoulder.

' _Let's not forget the potential music video_ ,' he thought with a silent groan.

Rubbing the spotted eye with the palm of his hand, he heard the door to the store open.

"Before you start, I'm here for Balgus. I want the syrup and nothing more, Plaktu," a familiar voice echoed from the doorway. Van's eyes widened and he almost dropped the bottle.

 _No… it couldn't be…_

" _I know you,_ "the counter clerk replied sharply. "You're that hooligan! You aren't allowed in here! You are banned!"

"I'm the only one who can get the syrup. Trust me, I don't want to be here!"

"I refuse to sell syrup to you! I _refuse_ until you pay me for the damages _you_ caused!"

Van stood on tip-toe to glance over the aisle he was standing in and his heart pulsed loudly in his ears. There she was, her green eyes wild and furious. Her short hair was messy and sticking up slightly in the back. Her yellow dress, though wrinkled, hugged her hips as she stomped from the doorway to the clerk's counter.

"I can't help it if you fix up a display right in the middle of the floor!"

"You are a bull in a china closet! It was right next to the window! Right there!" Plaktu pointed to the far corner of his shop. "It was tucked away from the aisles, yet somehow you managed to _obliterate_ -"

"I _did not_ obliterate and it was _not_ in that corner! It was right next to the front door right here!" she pointed several feet behind her. "Anyone could have tripped on that stupid display!"

"Tell Balgus if he does not send someone else, then he will get no syrup!" Plaktu snarled. "I will not work with someone as insolent as you!"

"Balgus already paid for it! You have to give us the crate, Plaktu!"

"I will not sell it to you! I'll give Balgus back his money! Go before you destroy more of my things!"

"I want that syrup! I'm not leaving without it!"

"I want to sell nice wine in my establishment, but _you_ decided to take a running head-start into-"

"NOBODY MOVE!" a voice roared from the right.

With his heart stopped, Van's eyes glanced over to see the black hoodie guy he'd walked past earlier. The pill bottle tightened in his hand. The man pointed a gun right at the clerk. The pixie waitress' eyes were wide. She put her hands in the air and backed away until she pressed against a large metal potato chip rack along the window. Van let out a long deep breath and ducked behind the aisle. He worked his way to the other side of the walkway so that he was behind the robber.

"Give me everything in the drawer!" The young man bellowed as he took a step closer to Plaktu and the waitress. "Put it in a fucking bag! I want _all of it!_ "

"I will! I will! One moment!" Plaktu said in a rush as his entire body shook with fear. His dark hands fiddled with the keys and he dropped them on the floor. Van moved further to the front and peaked around the side. He saw the robber's back and the clerk's panicked face.

 _Now or never…_

"Come on! I'll shoot you! I'll kill you dead, mother-fucker! I swear if you press that button to call the-OOF!"

Van pounced like a lion and tackled the man to the ground. The gun went off with a sharp, ear-piercing _BANG_ and clattered across the floor. Pressing his entire weight on the robber, he grabbed the man's right arm before he could try to escape and wrenched it behind his back. Pressing the pill bottle against the man's shoulder blades, Van panted, "I have a gun and I will shoot you if you don't cooperate."

"Get off me, mother-fucker! Get off!"

"I will _shoot you_!" Van snarled, struggling against the man's wiggling legs. He glanced at the waitress, whose green eyes were bugging out in shock, and growled, "Help me! Find a rope! Call the police! _Something!_ "

With a quick nod of importance, she took a step forward – and her foot caught on the chip rack behind her.

She screamed as she fell.

The chips came tumbling with her.

A metal grate landed on Van's head and his vision blanketed in a sea of sour cream and onion as the entire display fell forward on top of all three of them. Her knee collided on the robber's head and her arms tossed over Van's shoulders; knocking him completely off the robber's body and onto the cold floor. His head hit the tile with an audible _crack_ and stars winked all over his eyes. Something very soft and warm hit his face hard and smashed his nose painfully. He couldn't breathe. A shrill ringing sound sang in his ears as bags and bags of chips rained down upon them like a baptism of snacks. Many of the chip bags, containing more air than content, burst open with a thunderous _POP_ all over their fallen bodies. Van, his brain pulsating with pain and panic, tried to turn his head to the left and breathe through his mouth, but all he got was a mouthful of fabric and several crisps of sour cream and onion.

Suddenly, the waitress on top of him squealed. Her voice was above his head.

"Ahhh! What the hell are you _doing?!_ "

"Can't… breathe…" he muffled.

"Stop biting! That's-"

"MY STOOOOOORE!" Plaktu roared from somewhere above them. "You she-devil! You cursed witch! You hold the destruction power of the great tsunami! My personal demon come to torment me! Dearest departed Father, please forgive this son for his unfaithfulness!"

"Oh, my God! Call the police, you idiot!" she snapped trying to shift to the right and give him some breathing space. She wasn't going anywhere. They were trapped. "Stop opening and closing your mouth!"

"Get… off…"

"I _can't_!"

Van raised his arms and pressed them on the crate. It was monstrously heavy. She saw what he was doing and added her strength to his. Pushing with all their might, the waitress was able to shift slightly to the right and his lungs expanded gratefully with air. She was still pressed tightly against his cheek, but at least half his face was free. He had a good minute of breathing before he realized what he was nuzzled against.

"Yeah, that's my _boob_ ," she answered his gasp with an irritated sigh. "I _told_ you to stop biting."

"Owww…." the robber trapped at Van's feet moaned. "What the - are these _Doritos_?"

* * *

It was ten terrible minutes before any of them heard a siren from the ambulance and cops. Her thin body pressing painfully into his stomach, Van tried to concentrate on his breathing while they waited. Her uniform smelled like old fried food and a lingering bitter sting of coffee. Surprisingly, it wasn't a bad smell. To be honest, it made Van want pancakes –

 _No,_ he thought immediately with a slight blush. _No,_ _ **not**_ _pancakes, but maybe French toast._

With her arms trapped behind his back, he wondered if she was in pain. She sure didn't act like she was injured. In fact, since the robber had come to, her verbal lashing was swift and unyielding.

"You are going to jail _forever_ , you jackass!" she snarled at the black hoodie underneath her legs. "I'll make sure you get as much punishment as you deserve! Assault, possession of a weapon, robbery, threaten manslaughter!"

"I'll get you for attempted manslaughter with this fucking chip rack!" the robber snapped back.

"Just try it! I didn't even need the chip rack! This guy had you on the ground before you even realized what happened!" Van blinked at her semi-compliment. "You weren't going anywhere and you know it! You better eat as much of those Doritos as you can reach! You'll be eating something a lot more unpleasant when you're in jail-"

"Vulgar girl…" the voice of Plaktu spat from behind the counter. "You think nothing of the destruction you've caused. I'm adding this on your debt! First my wine, now my chips! What are you going to go after next? My entire store? Going to burn it to the ground?"

"Don't tempt me!"

"Oh, thank God…" Van groaned as several men came in through the clinging door with badges and guns drawn. The men froze together with dropping mouths. Apparently the mess was worse than Van could see.

"About damn time! They're under there!" Plaktu's voice shrieked from behind the counter. "Arrest all three! Especially that hooligan girl! She is a menace to society!"

It took five men to lift the rack, two to dig them out from the enormous amount of chips, and one to subdue Plaktu once the little waitress had finally emerged. Police led the clerk out of the store for a testimony, yet Van could still hear his screaming even from across the street. After being cleared with the paramedic, Van found himself sitting against the window rubbing the back of his sore head and clutching the pill bottle he'd intended to buy. Watching the cursing, crisp-covered robber handcuffed and escorted out of the store, he looked up in surprise as a shadow of a yellow dress fell over him.

"I realized I didn't properly thank you." She murmured quietly, coming over to sit next to him. She wrapped her arms around her knees almost like protection. "That was very brave of you to jump out and tackle him. Balgus will probably fry me in his grease fryer for not getting the syrup on time, but I'm grateful that I will be alive for it. So, thank you. Thank you for saving my life." Her green eyes flickered to him and he swallowed audibly. She looked strangely vulnerable sitting like that and looking at him. She still had bits of sour cream and onion flaked in her short hair.

He broke his gaze and a small smile crossed his lips. "I may have tackled him, but _you_ definitely finished him off. And me too! I'm beginning to wonder how many more times I have to run into you before I finally get knocked into a coma."

She grimaced. "Sorry about… all of that. Sorry about _everything_ really. I know my attitude has been less than civil lately. And it's unlucky that every time we see each other…" she trailed off. "Anyways, how's the head?"

"Better now that I can finally breathe."

The waitress blushed brightly and began to shyly twirl her hair. "I'm really not that destructive all the time. I was perfectly fine until I met you."

Van snorted a laugh that hurt his head. "Yeaaaah, what was that wine story about?"

As he expected, she immediately jumped to defense. "That wasn't my fault! It was right in the middle of the…" she words stumbled to a halt as he started laughing. Looking at him with a quirked eyebrow, she slowly began to smile. Pretty soon she was joining him with giggles of her own.

They sat together on the tile floor laughing till their sides ached.

Entering the store with frowns of confusion, the police had to wait five minutes for them to calm down and tell them they were being called in the station for testimony. "We need to ride in separate cars," she grinned standing up and brushing off the back of her skirt. "If we ride together, who knows what will happen!"

He chuckled and wiped a tear from his eye. "Probably need to give testimonies in different buildings, too. In fact, just call me in tomorrow just to make sure we don't run into each other again!"

* * *

Hitomi stepped out of the station and checked her phone with a scowl. Twenty-seven missed calls all from Balgus.

Great.

Rolling her green eyes, she checked her dress pocket and pulled out her card pouch. She'd have to take the bus back to Plaktu's store to get the syrup and THEN get the syrup to the restaurant. Hurrying over to the bus map, she scanned the schedule and groaned.

Another thirty minutes before it shows up. Geez, it'd be faster to walk!

Shaking her head tiredly, she turned around and bumped into a shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said without looking.

"Hitomi!?" A familiar voice vibrated in her ears and sent shivers of chilled heat down her spine. She froze as her mind began to spin in a panic spiral.

 _No,_ she thought frantically. _No, no, no, no, it can't be. Please don't let it be-_

"It's Amano Susumo, remember? From Cornish University!"

* * *

After leaving the station later that day, Van hovered his finger over the doorbell to Allen's apartment. Despite feeling cheerful from his friendly parting with the waitress, his fatigue had finally begun to catch up to him. His muscles were sore, his head was aching, and he had a strange feeling he was fighting a daily battle that he was quickly losing. The problem was: who was the enemy?

Pressing his finger on the button with a sigh, he heard the thundering footsteps of Allen before the man even reached the front door.

"BRAH! What da fiz? You go and be late, n'shit!? We workin' on da single!"

"Got held up," Van murmured. _Literally_ , he added in his head as he pushed the blonde man out of the way and made his way up the stairs to the studio.

"You can't be late like that, brah. I wanted to be realz wicha for a sec. I looked into dat video thing and check it, that guy is mega willin' to sell. There be some condish tho."

 _Oh, right…_ Van shook his head tiredly. _A music video to go with the most horrific song I could ever think of. Great._ A memory of laughing with the pixie waitress made him want to curl into a ball. She really wasn't so bad. Once she heard this song… _Oh, God…_

"No worries on the conditions, brah," Allen continued taking Van's silence for concern. "Our manager will handle all da deets."

Van's foot slipped on the last step and he stumbled forward to catch himself on the couch. He turned to stare at the blonde man incredulously.

"M-Manager? Allen, when the hell did you get a-"

"From the computerz!" A voice a bit too loud for indoors burst behind Van's head.

Swiveling on toe with a jolt of surprise, his mahogany eyes were assaulted with the color green. The man's shirt, pants, shoes, and even tie were all different violent variations of the color. His black hair was slicked back from his forehead; successfully exposing the craziest looking eyes Van had ever seen.

"I saw it on the flashy screen and I came to the address and I will do _anything_ for you! The name's Gadeth! Bagel Bite?" His new manager said the words in an endless streaming rush while never dropped the eerily crooked grin off his face. He whipped a plate of mini pizza bagels from behind his back and most of them spilled on the floor at Van's feet.

"How embarrassing!" The man giggled before crouching to the floor. He scowled at the microwaved meat pastries while picking them up one by one. "Bagels, you're making me look bad in front of the new guy…"

"I put in the ad for a new manager like an hour ago, brah. Gad showed up ringing the doorbell like two seconds lata! He's gonna chat for the vidz. Meanwhile, there's a tune we gotta flame. Let's burn to da studio, brah." Allen placed a hand on Van's shoulder to push him to the back room.

"I'll dake gud car of do!" Gadeth said through a mouthful of the bagels he'd picked up from the floor. The manager swallowed, choked once, and – as the door closed behind him – Van heard him shout, "He didn't like you, you stupid Bagel Bites! No! NO! I don't like you either! Way less carpet lint next time!"

* * *

 **Guess who's heeeeeerrreeee? How could I NOT put him in? He's the most insane character I have. In a story about insanity, he should have a goooood role. Manager... peeerrrrfect.  
**

 **I know he's been requested by a few of you, so here you go!**

 **It's only going to get crazier.**

 **blue...**


	5. 5 My (New) Little Brother

**It's back. It's silly. And my brain is ridiculous. I started this story as a stress reliever and that's exactly what I want it to remain. There may be problems since I've went ahead and said, "Bubbles, don't worry about this story because it's here for laughter and insanity." She's awesomely taking care of BR's next chapter right now. I would rather use her lovely talents for my more detailed stories.**

 **Like I said before, this one is just for insanity-**

 **And ooooh does it have a heaping dose of that.**

* * *

 _This day is just going to the pits…_ Van thought sourly as he leaned against the door and his chin fell forward on his chest. What just _happened_? Who was that crazy, green guy? Glancing worriedly at Allen, he watched his friend set the keyboard stand on the white carpet and clicked it into place. An encompassing fear for the unknown crawled down his back and Van suddenly shivered.

In the span of only a few days, his world had traveled ruthlessly down a rocky spiral filled to the brim with mental people, and he felt like he had hit every speed bump along the way. Not only had he had two, almost _three_ , accidents – all of them involving this crazy waitress who came out of nowhere – but the regular parts of his life were beginning to unravel like a frayed ball of yarn.

All because of one stupidly, important thing:

Money.

"Dude, brah, snatch that cord and jam it to the socket 'round back."

"Allen, can we talk about what just happened in there?"

"What's ta chat? We gots da get the tunes did. I made sure your spare guitar was tuned 'fore you got here, yo. You so late tada, brah."

"I am aware we need to record and that I'm late today, but do _you_ realized you hired a _lunatic_ to be our manager? What happened to Mole?"

Allen gave Van a strange look before letting out a laugh.

"Dude, you remembs what happen to Mole! He bailed out on our very last tour! I don't want that puck in da squad! And what's not on point wit Gad? Brah, he's bullet. He be doin' solid for da gig. He's gettin' da vid."

"How is _he_ getting the video?"

"IDK, brah. He's da shit, doh."

"And speaking of that," Van chimed in with a groan, "we are _not_ using that video."

"What you say!?" Allen turned swiftly from the stand and his long hair caught a bit on a screw. "But da vid's on fleek! It goes with da single! Hand 'n hand 'n all that."

"I don't want it. We don't need it. We can do something else. That Pancake Song was not supposed to-"

Allen crossed the floor so fast, Van jumped back and his head hit the doorframe painfully. The blond man's wide blue eyes shinned with a fierce gleam as he pressed his face close to Van's threateningly. Hands springing up in defense, the black-haired man could practically taste the waves of anger shimmying off his partner.

"You came to me for help," Allen hissed dangerously, his ghetto accent completely forgotten. "You came to me asking for a better life for Merle, and I graciously took you back. If you didn't want this then you shouldn't have signed the contract. You will do what I want, Van Fanel. This isn't The White Dragons anymore. We are on a new path. A new age of music. No one wants the ballads or the sonnets. They want the booty shake. They want the sex, the drugs. They want to forget."

"How is a song about pancakes supposed to do any of that?" Van injected darkly, his anger rising to match Allen's. "How is nonsense supposed to make people forget? And why would we want to do that? That's not who we are!"

" _I_ decide what we are! Not you! _Me!_ This time I'm in charge! So, get with it or 'bye, Felicia'!" Allen pointed at the door behind Van with his thumb and Van's eyes noticed the fake bejeweled rings decorating his fingers. The stand-off was short lived as Van felt the fight leave his bones.

He was chained to this. He knew he was. Money made it so.

Allen's mouth curled slightly as he saw Van's shoulders lower in defeat.

"Can we at least revise The Pancake Song?"

A small laugh escaped the blond man before he turned back to turn on the keyboard.

"Hells, no."

* * *

 _This day is just going to the pits…_ Hitomi thought bitterly as she hesitantly settled down in the squashy seat next to the tall man in the small yellow cab. Amano had insisted on sharing a taxi and paying for the entire ride. As much as she loathed the guy, she couldn't resist a free ride. She had thought she could handle a few minutes of uncomfortable conversation. Turns out it wasn't the conversation that struck a hard cord with her heart – it was how freaking close the guy was sitting next to her. His long leg brushed against her knee as the car turned right and she pressed herself harder against the door. Staring out the window, she missed the pleasant smile that was planted on his lips.

"I'm so glad to see you! What a coincidence you are in the city! I just moved here! What have you been up to?" Amano checked his phone in his pocket. She glanced at him just in time to see the sleek iPhone disappear from sight. His black pinstriped suit, rich red tie, and polished leather shoes made her clutch the edges of her yellow wrinkled uniform in self-disgust. She wished she could sink into the germ-covered leather seat of the taxi and disappear from sight.

"Working."

"As what?"

"Teacher," she semi-lied through her teeth.

"Teacher, huh?" Amano's dark eyes raked up and down her body and she clenched the fabric in her fist tighter. "What school?"

"What about you, Amano?" she evaded, trying to keep the distain from her voice. "You seem to be doing well. That's a nice suit."

"Oh, this?" He brushed a hand over his smooth jacket and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I just got out of an interview. It's been tough trying to get a job out here in the city, but I'm not giving up." A large smile crossed his lips. "I'm happy you've found a good job at least. What's with the yellow dress though? Is it for some kind of project or play?"

"Sure," she replied darkly turning back to the window. Amano opened his mouth, but closed it audibly. It seemed he'd finally noticed her frosty countenance.

The silence was deafening. The cab stopped at a red light.

"Look, it's really weird running into you like this. I'll be the first to admit. Yukari-"

"Amano, don't. Just… don't right now, okay? I have already had a rough day." Her green eyes flicked on his sincere face and he blanched from her spicy glare. "I appreciate the cab ride, but that's all this is."

Her old ex-friend's mouth closed and he blinked several times before turning away to look out his window. Hitomi felt a little twist of shame in her stomach, but immediately brushed any remorse aside.

Amano, innocent and yet so incredibly, stupidly guilty, finally moved his leg over to give her more space.

* * *

Merle pulled Van's tattered baseball cap further on her forehead and ducked behind the aged-bricked wall swiftly. Tugging at her pink hair nervously, she leaned forward to inspect the bakery across the street.

"What are you doing?"

Merle let out a solid shriek and sprang forward like a startled cat. With her hands immediately clenching into fists, she turned to glare at the auburn-headed waitress from the restaurant. The woman's yellow uniform was stained with brown spots and her ponytail was loose and messy. Her brown eyes, though tired, were narrowed with suspicion. Dropping the large black bag full of trash she was carrying to the dumpster, the waitress took a step closer and glanced over Merle's head.

"Are you spying on the bakery?"

"What's it to you?" Merle shot back.

The woman quirked an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Look, kid. I don't care what you're doing here as long as you leave poor Hitomi out of it, understand? My friend has had enough problems with this video and work and school-"

"It's not for her, stupid!" she shot back. "It's for my brother! For his band!"

That made the waitress' eyebrows raise in surprise. "You are going after the guy who filmed the video for your brother's band?"

"Uh, yeah, that's what I just said! That video belongs to _him_!"

The woman snorted and raised a hand in defense. "Like I said, I don't care what you're doing. Just leave my friend out of it." As the waitress walked back through the rusted backdoor, Merle rolled her eyes and turned back to the bakery - just in time to see a young man stroll out the bakery door in a black wife beater; his hair so blond it looked silver.

Immediately hurrying to try and catch him, a green blur raced past her and almost knocked her over.

"What the hell?" she cried, catching her footing. "Watch where you're going!"

Merle stopped short, her eyes growing wide as the green blur skidded to a stop and backed up. It was a dark-headed man in a terribly vibrant green suit. Turning back to glance at her with his chocolate hair flopping in the wind, she could tell from the glazed look in his eyes that there might be something wrong with him mentally.

"I'm sorry, little boy."

"I'm a _girl_ , moron!" Merle hissed angrily underneath her ball cap.

"Can you help me, Poika?" The man took a few steps closer. Lifting a hand, he pointed at the busy intersection. "This is where the puke video happened, right? The one that got all popular on the screen with the flashing lights?"

Her eyebrows raising, she blinked several times. "Flashing… lights?"

"Com-pu-ter," the man annunciated like she was slow. "It flashes occasionally, right? Obviously, I meant a computer, doi! You're kinda dumb, aren't you, Garoto?"

She was speechless for a second. "What the hell is your problem?"

" _Language_ , Puer! Now riddle me this: is this the intersection that the puke video was filmed at?"

"Yeah," she answered hesitantly. "But what do you want with-"

"Excellent. Good. Perfect. Enchanting. Lovely. Wonderbra!"

"You mean, 'wunderbar'?" she offered with a quirked eyebrow. Glancing over his shoulder, she saw the boy climbing rusted stairs on the side of the building in the alleyway. Clicking her tongue with annoyance, she made a move to brush the green man aside, but he jumped back in her way.

"Where are you going?"

"I wanted to talk with that blond-haired dude over there." She scowled and pointed to the alleyway across the street just as the boy bent to unlock the door with his keys. "Because of you, I missed my opportunity to ask him if he knew who filmed the video! Get out of my way, stupid!"

She never saw the excited spark glaze over the green man's dark eyes as he watched the boy enter through the door and it slammed shut behind him.

* * *

"You know what this song could use?"

Van shrugged his answer; still feeling the sour bitterness about their stand-off earlier. Having finished panning out the chords to The Pancake Song, Allen had moved on to another one of Van's destroyed masterpieces: Crispy Crisps.

"This chorus is hellz on fleek, but these verses are crap, brah. It needs a rap. Like something with rhythm. Something that tells a story or some shit."

"You want a rap song about _chips_?" Van's voice almost cracked with the absurdity of the sentence. "Allen… _come_ _on_ , man… "

The blond turned with a sharp look in his eye and the ghetto dropped once more. "You want a paycheck? Write me a rap! I want it tomorrow and we will record it with The Pancake Song on Saturday."

* * *

She buzzed down the road on her motorcycle and tried to push down the urge to go home and crawl into Yukari's couch. With the crate full of syrup strapped to the back of her bike, she hit another bump and heard them rattle loudly like the sound of a medieval death cart.

 _Clang, clang… "Bring out your dead!"…. clang-cla-clang… "Bring out your dead!"_

"Balgus is going to kill me," she breathed into the streaming air as she hurried through another yellow light. Sliding to turn left, she passed a taxi and tried to keep the shiver of guilt and disgust off her shoulders. She might be late on delivering the syrup, but she would have been later if she hadn't taken that taxi with Amano.

She had sacrificed her pride for the old man and his stupid restaurant.

"I can't tell Yukari though…" she decided out loud. "She can't know Amano is here. He doesn't deserve her anxiety."

Increasing her speed, she bled past a few more cars, and her heart began to somewhat settle. From meeting up with that Van guy to getting a free ride in a taxi to finally getting the syrup from Plaktu, Hitomi had to admit.

Maybe today hadn't been so bad after all.

* * *

Merle crossed the street briskly with the green man panting at her heels. Dodging pedestrians, she hurried over to the alleyway and stood staring at the steps leading to the apartment above the bakery. Narrowing her eyes, she leaned back to glance at the front windows. A surge of hope filled her.

It was the perfect angle for the video. This had to be the guy who filmed it.

"Wait, young man! You're running too fast!"

Merle rolled her eyes yet again as the green guy finally caught up with her and panted violently in her face.

"Stop following me!" she hissed angrily backing away further.

"…Video…" the man choked. "I need… the video…"

"I want the video, too! Just because you want it doesn't mean you're going to get it! And what is your problem? We just ran less than 50 feet! Why are you so out of breath?"

"Hate… running…" he heaved. "It shows off… my high-waist… hips…"

The pink-haired girl crossed her arms. "Why do you want the video anyway?"

"That is between me and myself, garçon,"

She scowled, but then her dark eyes turned thoughtful. "Is this for The White Dragon's?"

His mouth flopped open with comedic surprise. "How do you know about that? Did someone tell you? Was that person named Steve? Chelsea? I know! It was that damn Dryden again, right? That guy is _totally_ obsessed with me-"

"What the _hell_ are you talking about? I know because my brother is Van Fanel, you idiot! He's part of the band! He's the one in the video and it rightfully belongs to him!"

The green man's glazed eyes sharpened suddenly and he held out a hand for her to shake. "Oh, hello, little Chico. Name's Gadeth, and I'm their new manager."

Now it was her turn for her mouth to drop open. "You-You're what?"

"Yeah!" he grinned and spread his arms wide as if to hug her. "I'm their manager, I think! I guess this means we're family!"

"No, it doesn't! You are a crazy person!" Leaving him and his hug behind, she turned and climbed up the rattling steps to a decrepit, paint-peeling door. Steadying her nerves, she knocked loudly.

There was a bated breath.

Only silence.

"Lemme try!" The green man named Gadeth hollered and pounded up the steps after her. Clearing his throat, he brushed her aside on the top step and lifted a foot.

"Wait, what are you-?"

He kicked the door so hard, it squelched loudly and a terrible splintering wood sound from the door frame. He swung his thin leg back once more and slammed the toe of his boot even harder. Merle was frozen solid as she watched him ready to give the door one last violent kick until-

"Who the hell is kicking my door!?" A silvery blond-haired young man wrenched the door open briskly –

Only to get a large boot smashed into his face.

* * *

She knew Balgus heard her bike. His anger was palpable even through the brick walls of his small, decrepit restaurant. Yukari rushed out to greet her with soft brown eyes worried and confused.

"Oh, Hitomi! What took you so long!? Are you okay?"

The pixie-haired girl simply shrugged – unable to form the words to describe her day - and unbuckled the case quickly. Though her friend's eyes narrowed suspiciously at her silence, she grabbed the other side of the case.

"Let's get this in. Balgus has been pacing for hours. We are almost out of eggs, but now that we have syrup, it should hold off the crowd. Everyone's been wanting pancakes!"

"Oh, my god! There's an IHOP three blocks from here! Why do they want _pancakes_?"

"Because that's what got thrown up in the video…"

Panting, both women pushed the crate through the door of the back kitchen. Hitomi straightened up with a disgusted face. "You can't be serious! That's so gross! Why would people want to eat something that got thrown up in a video? Is everyone _nuts_?"

"Hey, it keeps Balgus occupied. I'm not complaining," Yukari smiled lightly. "And speaking of Balgus…"

The pixie-haired woman groaned and leaned against the metal racks holding mustard and ketchup bottles. "Lemme guess: he's pissed at me?"

Her friend's smile turned sympathetic. Patting her shoulder, the redhead turned to the main kitchen's swinging doors and whispered, "Just go in there and take it. He can't yell for long since there's so many customers."

* * *

"You broke my nose!"

"I was knocking at your door!"

"You were _kicking_ my door!"

"You weren't answering to normal knocks! I thought this would get your attention!"

"What do you _want_!?" The youth roared through the hand covering his bleeding nose. The red dripped off his chin and splattered on his black shirt and shoes.

"I need the barfing thingy!" Gadeth announced, and he turned to Merle with an encouraging nod. She had started backing down the steps slowly to avoid getting into this growing lawsuit. "She does, too! It's a really important video! We need it for our brother-!"

"Van's _not_ your brother!" She cried just as the blond boy shrieked, "Get off my property!"

"Not until you hear us out-"

"Hear _what_ out?! The video is not for sale! I should sue you for attempted manslaughter!"

"You're going to die from a nosebleed?" Gadeth stopped confused.

"We should go, man!" Merle beckoned to Gadeth from the bottom step. "He could call the cops on you!"

"As a matter of fact, I think I will!" The youth shouted, his amber eyes flowing with rage.

"WAAAAAAAIT!"

Gadeth's scream echoed down the alleyway and into the busy square. Many people stopped with startled curiosity as the green man launched himself on the youth and wrapped his arms around the boy's waist with a vice grip.

"Get off of me, you bloody-"

"I can make sure your job application goes through!"

The boy stopped and Merle's mouth fell open once more. _What the hell was this man talking about?_

"How do… How do you know about…?" The boy stuttered just as shocked. "How do you…?"

"I have my ways," Gadeth grinned up at the youth with his arms still around the boy's body. His dark eyes glittered mischievously. "I know the man who runs Fassa Network and I can get you that editing gig. I can push your resume to the top of the list. In return, give me the video and the rights to it. All this can be yours and more at the price of a bloody nose and a possibly broken door…"

" _Which he will pay for_!" Merle added loudly. The boy's amber eyes finally turned on her with surprise as if he'd just noticed she was there. Meeting his gaze, she felt her cheeks blush lightly and she pulled on the cap quickly.

"Which I will pay for!" Gadeth announced and nuzzled the side of his face against the boy's thin stomach. "Once I get the video!"

"Get off of me!" he snarled, shoving the green man away. His face was twisted with suspicion, but his eyes had a hopeful gleam. "You said you can make my application go through? You sure you can get the job for me?"

Gadeth grinned brightly from where he kneeled on the ground. "As sure as I'm homeless with no place to go!"

The boy sighed and winced at his bloody nose.

"When you – I mean, _if y_ ou do that… then the video is yours."

* * *

The day had been long, his brain was fried, and his eyes were beginning to cross as he stared at the empty lines on the pad of paper lying on the kitchen table. Dropping his pain-wrecked head into his hands, Van pulled on the strands of his long dark hair with a defeated sigh.

A rap.

Now a damn rap.

A rap about chips…

Van didn't even know how to rap. Was it like crude poetry? Poetry was something Van could do in his sleep. He always had a knack for words. Raps were all about the rhythm and rhyme, right?

Rhyming wasn't the problem…

Chips… dips… slips...

Nips…

"Oh, my god…" The black-haired man groaned. Reaching back for his jacket on the chair, he checked the pocket for headache medicine and sighed with realization. Of course, he hadn't bought any. He had been with that force of destruction that manifested itself as a five foot tall, pixie haired woman. Her angry green eyes floated into his mind and he snorted with a shake of his head. It really was something how they kept meeting up. She almost went hand in hand with the insanity that Allen was spewing.

From a song about sexy pancakes to a rap about chips…

With a twist of a smile falling on his lips, Van plucked the once discarded pencil that had rolled to the middle of the table, and pulled the pad of paper closer. The memory of vibrant green eyes and messy short hair crossed his mind and his smile grew wider.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd found his inspiration after all:

"So, today, I was told to write a rap about chips  
Yes, the kind with potatoes and salt licking lips.  
Money seems to drive my apocalypse.  
Chained financially strapped up in the grips  
Of a friend turned nutcase's fingertips.  
Struggling for the ropes to keep afloat my ships  
And that's when my life started going to the pits.

"Wavering on foot with my head in my hand  
Eyes blackened, brain pounding with terrible demand  
Transforming my work and to feed the brand  
All for the sake of my White Dragon band  
Shopping for meds to keep in my nightstand  
That's when I heard the terrible command.

"'Get out of my store, you miserable girl!'  
The store owner's anger boiled over to unfurl  
At a woman in yellow dress, familiar whirl  
Shock danced in my head with a terrible twirl  
She shined from the doorway like a perfect pearl  
And that's when a voice made my stomach curl.

"'On the floor and no one will get hurt!'  
Gun pointed at the woman in the rumpled skirt  
Store owner yelped frightened and hit the dirt  
Meanwhile, I made my way around behind the perp  
Jumped, tackled to the floor, and his hands were girt  
That's when an avalanche hit the back of my shirt.

"My nose collided something soft and sweet  
Monsoon of bagged chips; gust of tasty treat  
Pinned down, the perp trapped cursing near my feet  
Yellow woman struggled hard, but she admit defeat  
And the woman, yes, her form so lovely petite  
Suffocated me slowly with her Nutrasweet teat.

"Doritos, Fritos, Lays potato, Sea-salt vinegar  
kept us all in its cage like a chained up prisoner  
Ears straining for a siren; a quiet listener  
Po-po come and saved; a welcomed visitor  
All for the sake of a case of the cylinder  
Bottled neck syrup; a chaos contributor.

"Once freed from the chips, the rack all broken  
Perp's dragging away cursin' po-po-policemen  
I sit on the floor, crisps surrounding my feet when  
Yellow woman sit beside me; total intuition  
How this chick run into me; total demolition  
She follow me around like an stalking acquisition

"If that is the case, I'll probably see her again  
I guess I'm stuck here for now with the hip-hop hooligan."

* * *

"How in the world did you know he had submitted an application for employment at Fassa Network? And how in the world can you make sure he gets the job? And _how in the world did someone like you get to be my brother's new manager?_ " Merle asked incredulously as she walked down the afternoon streets beside the smug green man. He tossed his arms widely as he walked, and, Merle had to admit, he kinda did have a high waist…

"Oh, my dear mal'chik, I told you…" He shot her a look and blinked his eyes tightly -she realized he was trying to wink at her. "I'm homeless. Besides, we Fanels have to stick together!" He laughed and draped his arm around her shoulders happily. The pink-haired girl scowled and shrugged off his arm.

"We aren't related, you weirdo! I just met you!"

"Welp, I'm hungry! Let's go home!"

Merle stopped walking and crossed her arms. "Uh, _no_! You're not coming home with me!"

"I'm thinking I'll pick up Bagel Bites at the store! Would big brother like Bagel Bites?"

"Listen, you freak! We aren't related-!"

"I can't wait to see big brother's face when I tell him I've got the video _and_ Bagel Bites!" He waved his arm without looking back at her and continued strolling joyfully down the street with sashaying hips.

Merle's mouth fell open. She stomped quickly to catch up with him. Grabbing his arm, she spun him around to yell, "You're _not_ coming home with me! _What_ are you? A stray _cat_?"

The guy stopped and his eyes took a strange serious glint.

"No video then," he said and crossed his arms.

" _What_?" Merle shrieked.

"No video unless you let me stay with you," he nodded and then with a quick thought added, "and call me 'little brother'."

"But I'm younger than you-!"

"Fine. No video!"

"You can't do that!"

"I sure can! I believe the old man said he would give the video to me, Ragazzo."

"He wasn't old! And stop calling me weird names!"

"You want the video? You know what to call me!"

They both froze; dark eyes leering up into delighted chocolate brown.

The stand-off was almost a metaphysical being shivering between the two opposing forces. One, a teenage girl with a hard attitude and a wish for rebellion. The other, a man with a single love of Bagel Bites and, though mentally screwed in the wrong way, surprisingly good at his managing job. The clashing wills sizzled between them like sparking static.

And, with a terrible defeated sigh releasing in a huff out of her lips, Merle caved.

"…Little… brother…" she hissed.

Instantly, the green man pulled her into a hard hug; lifting her feet off the ground and twirling her around. Her swinging feet hit several people passing them by and many stopped to shoot the pair weird looks.

"Let me go, you moron! I'm hitting people!"

"I love you, too!" the man squealed.

"Stop spinning!"

Gadeth let her go and she stumbled as vertigo hit. Suddenly, she felt a hand grab hers and pull her quickly down the street.

"Let's go home!"

"Van's going to kill me…" Merle murmured weakly.

* * *

 **Hope you guys enjoyed this little nugget of ridiculousness. Just something to keep you occupied while everything else is getting worked on. I truly missed this story.**

 **As always, thank you so much for reading! And reviewing! And everything else in-between! You guys are the absolute best! Honestly, I love all of you! Especially for dealing with this story! lol!**

 **Have a day filled with friends, family, and potato chips!**

 **blue...**


	6. 6 A Delicious Mistake

**Something is just making me want to write this ridiculous story. I'm glad it's here and driving me, but I kinda wish it'd move to my other stories too, ya know?**

 **Oh, well. Gotta go with the flow.**

 **Enjoy this one. Less crazy until the very end. ;)**

* * *

Running her aching, sticky fingers through her short locks, she frowned impatiently as her fingers caught slightly on the tangled strands of her messy hair. Yukari, yawning and rolling her shoulders, plopped next to her on the tattered red booth with a long sigh, and they leaned on each other back to back. There was a quiet clinking resonance of dishes being washed, but other than that, it was dead silence inside the small, quaint diner. Hitomi felt the soft auburn hairs of Yukari's ponytail brush against the nape of her neck and the memory of Amano's cheerful face flickered before her eyes. Her poor, sweet friend.

She would never, ever tell.

"I both hated and loved today." Yukari's soft voice floated behind her head. "I am so tired of this uniform, and being on my feet, and so busy that I can hardly breathe, but I made over $200 in tips today."

"You would be the only one to say that. Yukari: the ever positive over here. Me? I thought it sucked all around."

"You did have to deal with Plaktu." Yukari tilted her head slightly. "Sorry about that. I know it was a pain to deal with him."

"Eh, it wasn't so bad," Hitomi sighed, but her smile grew a little more as she remembered the finer details of her morning. Namely a dark-headed detail… "There was a bit of drama," she confessed, "but everything worked out. And just think: your mother is going to make us another one of her strawberry cakes after we send off the money. She always cooks after one of her treatments. I've been craving those cakes for a while now."

"You don't have to do that, you know," Her redheaded friend said lowly. "You need money to live, too. I feel bad taking half from you when you've worked as hard as I have. People can't survive on breakfast food."

She snorted and her green eyes slipped to the kitchen door. "Tell that to raging dirty apron in there."

"I'm serious."

Reaching back to awkwardly pat Yukari's face with her hand, Hitomi let out a small laugh. "Girl, you freely give me your couch every night. I will do anything for you. Money doesn't matter to me, but it matters a hell of a lot to you. 'Sides, you seem to be the only stable thing in my life right now. I don't want you to kick me out."

Yukari chuckled and reached back as well to pat Hitomi's cheek. "I won't kick you out. You know that! You're not just my best friend. You're like family to me!"

"You're family to me, too!" Hitomi grinned.

And that's how Balgus found his two waitresses sitting back to back on his booth and patting each other's faces.

* * *

Van glanced up from the kitchen table with a start as the door handle jiggled with the sound of tell-tale keys. Turning the pad of paper over immediately, he planted a grin on his face as the door swung open and Merle's familiar scowl appeared at the doorway. He was surprised to see her wearing his old baseball cap. Stomping inside, she turned instantly to slam the door only for a long black shoe to stretch out and catch it.

A shoe followed suspiciously green pants.

"Van! He's trying to come in! Help me!" Merle cried, shoving the door harder.

"Wait, what?" Van jumped from the table and rounded the counter quickly.

"She promised! Your sister is a lying liar!"

The black-haired man froze for only few ticking seconds before joining Merle at the door. "Gadeth the manager?"

"The one and only!" The man's voice happily resounded from the hallway. "She said I could stay! This is betrayal!"

"Betrayal, my ass! You followed me home!"

"Merle, how in the world did you meet _him_ of all people?" Van asked in bewilderment.

"That's none of your business, Van! Help me close the door! He's trying to come in!"

"Merle-"

"Bro, please-"

"This hurts!" Gadeth squealed from behind the door. Van saw his pale fingers like snakes grasp around the frame door and push hard against her. He gained a few inches. "This is after I bought Bagel Bites and everything!"

"No, you didn't! I was with you the entire time! You didn't buy anything! You just followed me home promising you would!"

"I was going to go get some, but I needed to know where you live first!"

"Go away, you stalker!"

"That's not how you speak to your younger brother!"

Van's hands clenched on the edge of his button down shirt and he exhaled a deep breath to steady himself.

"Merle, let him in."

His pink-haired adopted sister stopped for a moment with her mouth open and Gadeth took the advantage of her shock. With a loud "THANK YOU!" he burst through the doorway without further invitation and rushed past with a quick, "I need to use the toilet!" Speeding past the siblings, Gadeth disappeared swiftly around the corner and the room settled like a passing hurricane. Silence enveloped Van before he closed his eyes tiredly and made his way back to the kitchen table. Meanwhile, his sister's mouth was still open in shock. Stepping forward, she grabbed the front door and slammed it shut. Van winced at the sound and braced his elbows on the rickety table in defeat.

Turning her sharp dark eyes on Van's face, she shook her head slowly. "Bro, you don't know what you've just done… You don't understand what he is…"

"I've met him before, Merle. At least let him explain himself." Van's eye twitched, but he settled his resolve. _If it comes to it, I'll throw him out myself._ He wondered briefly – as Merle rounded on him with her mouth opening angrily – if his headache would ever, ever go away.

"If you've met him before, you know he's _crazy!_ And you just let him in our apartment!"

"You led him here, kid," Van retorted without fire.

"He kept following me! He said that if he didn't stay with us then he wouldn't give me the-" She froze and Van's expression darkened further.

"What was that, Merle?" he asked with a dangerous calm.

"Nothing!" she squealed, "What's for dinner?"

"Merle… how did you meet him? What is he not giving you?" She didn't answer, but Van already knew the conclusion of what happened. With a tight sigh escaping his mouth, he dropped his head in his hands and the pink-haired teenager had the gumption to look guilty. "Come on, kid. Don't tell me you skipped school _again_. I told you that you _can't_ keep doing that. Not only are you going to get in trouble with the school district for tardiness, but _I'm_ going to get heat for your truancy. They could take you away from me, kid."

"They can't do that!" she shouted, jumping immediately to her defense.

"Yeah, they can. They'll call me an unfit guardian and take you away from me. Is that what you want?"

"You're not unfit though!"

Van rubbed his eyes before standing slowly. He walked to his sister and placed his hands on her petite shoulders. "In a way, I wonder if I am," he said quietly to her. "Mom and dad… it's like they were here and then suddenly gone… and you were all I have left. I feel like I'm still trying to figure out how to take care of you. Mom should be here to teach your life lessons. Dad should be scaring away all the boys that dare to look your way. I shouldn't be the one to do this. I should be free to tease you and make you break the rules, not enforce them. I'm not good at parenting, Merle. But this is what life has given me. You are the only one I've got. I have tried. I _really_ have tried to make this work. But it's not enough for you, is it?"

Merle's eyes took a frightened shine as she twisted her fingers together. Staring up at him with her mouth slightly ajar, she shook her head slowly. "Don't say that."

"I'm just being honest," he said. "I don't know what else to do. I said I wanted you to go to school and _stay_ in school, but the very next day you disobey me. You run off to God knows where and you bring back a lunatic." Van laughed bitterly. "And this might just be my fault because I've been so focused on myself."

"I wanted to get that video, Van! I wanted to do it for you!"

"And I had asked you to leave it alone, Merle!" Van said sharply and she blinked in surprise at his tone. "This is what I meant by disobeying me! I need you to listen to what I say from time to time! It's dangerous for a little girl to go by herself in the city, let alone find some stranger that tapes things in the middle of the night outside his window!"

"Leave the video to me, big brother and sister." A sing-song voice broke through their heavy discussion, and both pairs of sibling eyes raced to the living room. The thin green man stood with his hands in the pockets of his pants and a strange smile spread on his lips.

"I feel like some Bagel Bites. Who's hungry?"

* * *

"I have to skip out on tutoring _again,_ " Hitomi complained as she dried her hair off with a yellow towel. "I'm so tired of this stupid diner job. It's taking over my life."

"You don't even _like_ tutoring, Hitomi," Yukari said with a smile. She added another touch of powder on her nose and reached for her chapstick sitting in her make-up bag. "At least at the diner you can make money. You don't even get paid for tutoring those brats."

"But with tutoring... I don't know. I feel like I'm doing something important. I am so sick of pancakes! The same breakfast food day in and day out."

"It does get rather old," Yukari agreed.

"And besides, if I'm to be the unnamed mascot of some shitty restaurant, I should get a raise or something! That greasy fart is keeping all the profit, but keeping his pay rate the same! I bet IHOP pays more salary than he does!"

"The popularity will die down and life will go back to normal."

Hitomi groaned. "It's been going on for a full week! I thought viral things stopped being popular faster than this."

"Well, your video has got a lot of hits. It seems vomiting on waitresses has become a fetish."

Her mouth dropped open. "You're kidding..."

Not answering, Yukari rubbed her lips together, dropped the chapstick back in her bag, and reached up to tighten the rubberband holding up her ponytail.

"It'll die down soon. Be patient."

Hitomi rolled her eyes and fluffed out her damp pixie locks. " _Patient_ , she says. Do you know who I am?"

Her best friend gave a small laugh and knocked her shoulder lightly with her hand. "Yeah, good point. But really, Hitomi, give it some time. These things never live long." Her face turned thoughtful as if she suddenly remembered something. "Oh yeah, speaking of that video, I forgot to tell you about that pink-haired girl who showed up at the diner yesterday."

"Pink-haired girl? Wait, you mean the one related to Van Fanel?" Hitomi quirked an eyebrow curiously and wondered at the shiver in her spine that seemed to flip her stomach into knots. "What did she want?"

"She said she going to get the video from the person who filmed it for her brother's band. She was staking out the bakery across the street."

Hitomi frowned. "I remember her saying they could use it as a music video or something for their new album, but I didn't actually think she was _serious_ about it."

"I know, right? It's all really weird. Like, who needs a video about someone throwing up pancakes?"

Hitomi shrugged and reached for her toothbrush. "Maybe they just want it because it's popular."

Yukari pursed her lips and stayed quiet.

* * *

Van waited for the light signal to change as the early morning traffic sped past him and brushed his inky hair off his forehead. Merle was at school – God, he _hoped_ she was at school, Gadeth had disappeared somewhere before dawn, and Van had woken up with a decision made in his mind. It was as if his unconscious-self had come up with it during the night.

He needed to speak with the diner owner. And possibly get some breakfast. After a pitiful dinner of store bought Bagel Bites from the grocery store across the street, Van could use a good meal.

Just maybe not pancakes…

Tucking up the manila folder with his rap inside, he crossed the street once it blinked at him and headed down the block towards the small restaurant. Then, he stopped in surprise.

There was a line outside the rusted door. Quite a long line actually. A smile hit his face as he remembered the kind owner with the spatula helping him to the hospital and insisting he come by just to ease his mind. If Van throwing up and getting a mild concussion was giving this burly man's business some attention then he found he couldn't be bitter about the video. The guy deserved to have some good luck out of this insanity.

Passing the alleyway near the diner to stand in the line, he heard a rustling noise and glanced at it without thinking.

And then he did a double-take.

Oh, no.

He heard the trash plop as a pair of startled green eyes met his.

"Oh, no," she said softly.

* * *

"Here ya are, my boy! Eat up!"

A pair of over-easy eggs and a scoop of hash browns plopped in front of Van's nose and his mouth watered in response. Sitting at the packed diner, his stool wobbled on the uneven tile floor as he unfolded his napkin and silverware. His manila folder laid respectfully by his plate as he grabbed the pepper for his eggs. The large owner frowned from behind the counter and turned to pick up the fresh brewed coffee pot to refill Van's cup.

"Are you sure you don't want pancakes?" he shouted over the noise.

"No-no," Van declined kindly. "This will do nicely, thank you."

"Alright, just let me know if you change your mind! Meal's on the house for you! You're welcome here anytime!"

"Thank you!"

Balgus turned to replace the coffee pot. Van chewed and watched him grab several plated stacks of pancakes from the hot spot and maneuver around the counter to serve the waiting tables. Seeing the flappy pastries dribbled in syrup, a queasy feeling hit Van's stomach and he struggled to swallow the hash browns in his mouth. A spot of yellow caught his eye and the pixie-haired waitress set several glasses of water down on different tables. Van watched her as she hurriedly gathered empty plates and whipped up her stained rag to wipe down the empty table. With her hands full of plates and cups, she nodded her head at the people waiting at the door and the table was instantly filled.

Despite her clumsiness, Van had to admit: she was a hard worker.

A memory came forth as his eyes followed her to the back kitchen:

" _She used to be such a sweet little thing. Ever since she came back from dropping out of college, she's got this tough, chip-on-her-shoulder attitude," The old man had said as he drove Van to the hospital. "Straight A student in high school and got in with full scholarship to Cornish University. She was practically 4.0 till her junior year…"_

She dropped out her junior year, Van mused to himself. She reappeared with a large stack of rolled napkins in her arms.

He wondered what for?

Taking another bite, he didn't notice the large owner glancing at his direction and follow where he was looking at.

He also didn't notice the furtive smile that slipped over the old man's lips.

* * *

The diner had somewhat quieted over the next hour.

Well, 'quieted' meaning: there weren't as many people waiting in line at the door.

Van took this as a good time to complete the task that had brought him here in the first place.

Writing down his cellphone number with Balgus' pen, he handed both over the counter to the large owner. "My sister has been notoriously skipping school and is dead set on bothering the people across the street. If you or any of your staff see her, even if it's after school hours, I would appreciate it if you called me and let me know. I need to start keeping track of her."

"I'll take care of it." The burly man agreed with a smile, but then his lips faltered under his thick, salt and peppered mustache. "I've been meaning to ask: are you doing alright, son? I don't mean to pry, but you look like you could fall over dead any minute. You've got large bags under your eyes. You sure you don't want pancakes? I'm sure the sugar alone will help."

Van burped quietly into his hand. "No, no, the eggs were enough. But I understand why you'd say that. Lately, I've been feeling that way more often than not."

"Is it stress?"

"You could call it that."

"Does _she_ have anything to do with it?" the old man's voice turned sour as the yellow waitress passed them with a basket full of biscuits. Her green eyes flicked over to their corner of the counter and she scowled as if she could hear them.

"No!" Van denied too quickly. "No, she's fine. It's mostly just work."

The old man nodded, but his little eyes still held a twinkle of suspicion. "I heard you were a singer."

"Kinda…"

"Writing your own songs?"

"Yeah…"

"Hard to write them?"

"Surprisingly, that's not the problem," Van said honestly and placed his hand on the manila folder beside his empty plate. "My issue seems to be trying to keep my life together. With my sister, my work colleague, my 'manager', and this new music thing we are working on… it's just not going the way I planned."

Balgus exhaled loudly. "Listen, son. I don't mean to be your psychologist, but you gotta keep this in mind: it's your life and you can do whatever the hell you want with it. If you want to stop something, all you need to do is put a foot down. Sounds like you are suffered from a classic case of bullying."

Van blanched, but then thought of Allen's threats. "Bullying…" he said with a slow nod. "I never thought about it that way."

"Working in this city, I've had to do a bit of bullying myself. It's a dog eat dog world out there, and there's an IHOP just down the street. I am living a dream right now thanks to that video, but it looks as though it doesn't come without consequences."

Van smiled. "Nah, I'm glad that something good came out of my puking up your food."

Balgus gave a jolly laugh. "Just make sure you keep these eggs down, son! If you gotta barf them, please go to the bathroom to the right."

* * *

Hitomi was tempted to stop Balgus as she passed him and demand he tell her what they were talking about. It seemed like a nice conversation, but she was terribly curious as to why he'd show up here in the first place? Meeting him outside in the alleyway had been surprising enough, but when he asked if there was a table available for him, she hadn't really expected him to stay and eat. Hadn't they promised just yesterday that they'd try to stay away from each other for safety's sake? It really did seem like a curse was growing between them.

Like every single time they randomly met - something would terribly go wrong.

Did he show up because of her? Because he knew she worked here and he was guaranteed to see her? Was approaching her in the alleyway an excuse just so he could watch her?

She chided herself and flicked her short fringe out of her green eyes.

She knew she was being stupid.

When he finally left and the small bell clanged with the shutting door, Hitomi actually let out a breath of relief. Placing a sticky hand on her chest, a weird tight feeling she hadn't noticed before seemed to unknot itself from inside her.

It must have been from anticipation of something exploding.

It really was a miracle nothing happened.

Moving to gather plates together from various tables, she headed to Van's seat and put his plate on top of the stack.

And that was when she spotted the manila folder on the counter.

* * *

Exiting out the door of the diner and feeling lighter than he had in days, Van basked in the warm warm that filtered onto his face. Though he had been so nervous, it turned out coming to the diner was the best plan he could have had. Not only was Balgus extremely helpful with his Allen problem, but nothing dangerous happened with him meeting the waitress. Passing by the empty alleyway, he actually let a grin fall on his lips as he remembered her shock at him asking for a table.

Her green eyes had been wide and full of disbelief. Her yellow uniform was hiked a bit on her thighs from her yanking on the large black trash bag.

He had to admit. She was pretty.

Kinda more than pretty.

Van snorted and shook his head. Given he'd written two songs about her – both she had no clue about – he wondered what would happen between them once she learned about it. Once their first single dropped… once the album was released…

Once they got the okay to start tour dates…

But that was too far in the future.

Van had songs to write and possibly more raps in the future. He'd just have to avoid writing any more songs about her.

And that was when he realized he'd left his manila folder.

* * *

She read it.

She read all of it.

Hitomi saw tunnel vision as she turned around swiftly to stroll out the diner; the manila folder trembling in her hand.

Van Fanel…

That odious son-of-a-bitch…

He had written a poem about her.

Not even a _good_ poem. It highlighted everything _bad_ about her: the stinking yellow uniform, her anger at Plaktu, the way she'd almost smothered him with her-

Oh, this was _not_ happening.

Opening the door, she walked out just as he rushed forward.

He stopped and stared at the folder in her hand.

She stopped and stared at his increasingly guilty face.

"I can explain…?" he said weakly.

* * *

 **SHE KNOWS.**

 **Get ready for more fun!**

 **blue...**


	7. 7 The Beginnings of a Competition

**One may be asking yourself, "Hey, bluetreeleaves, you said you weren't going to post much this month because you are doing that Nanowrimo thing, right?"**

 **Well, aren't you in for a surprise because yes, I am doing that, but I also need a brain break from time to time. And this story is MY BREAK from writing... which CLEARLY doesn't make sense because I'm insane, but there ya go.**

 **So, without further confusion, here we are.**

* * *

For one full heartbeat, his eyes were locked on hers; a sparking, wild green and dark, rich mahogany frozen within this one second; spawning a century's worth of time.

 **SLAP**

The next heartbeat, the entire left side of his face was suddenly stinging with a sharp pain. Blinking in surprise and hearing gasps all around them, Van raised a hand to his burning cheek and his mouth fell open. Her fingers still hanging in the air, she looked shocked at what she'd just done. Her eyebrows raised for a moment before crashing down into a hard glare.

"What the _hell_ is this?" she demanded, a dangerous quiet to her voice. She held the folder in front of his face.

"Please, let me explain-"

"How many poems have you written about me, huh? Is this some kind of stalker thing?"

"No, no, it's not! I just-"

"Thought it was a good idea to follow me around? To write about me?"

"I swear, I haven't been following you!"

"Not very convincing when you just show up here out of the blue!" she shouted and her scowl grew more pronounced between her eyebrows.

"I came to speak to your boss, Balgus."

The woman snorted. "Yeah, right!"

"I didn't know you'd be working today."

"Oh really? What did you need to speak with him about?"

Van's heart was pounding in his ears as he tried to rationalize his panic. "Look, my sister has been getting into trouble lately and I wanted to make sure she didn't come around here anymore to bug-"

"Oh, my god…" she breathed and her eyes flew wide. "Your sister… Your sister wanted that video… Yukari said she was trying to get it!"

"And I told her to stop-!"

"She wants it because you've written another poem, right?! You wrote one about that night!"

Van's mouth hung open and his words tangled in his throat.

 _Damn… she's really good at putting two and two together…_

Her eyes flickered with disgust. "I'm right, aren't I? This isn't your only poem about me! You wrote about the puke thing, too! That's why your sister is coming around and annoying Yukari! That's why she's insisting on tracking down the owner of it!"

"Well, _technically_ … it's not a poem," Van confessed. His full stomach seemed to shrivel in his belly with his rising shame.

"Not… a poem," the pixie woman repeated incredulously, putting a hand on her hip.

"It's-It's actually… a-actually a… song." He closed his eyes as the words trailed pathetically off his tongue. The blood rose to his cheeks. He couldn't look at her anymore.

It was too much. This was just too much.

A car honked loudly in the street. Someone was yelling at the hotdog vendor across the block. Several of the people walking by were beginning to snap photos of them with their phones and whisper excitedly.

Oh, yeah. Van had forgotten they were internet famous.

He released a short breath, but still couldn't look at her. "I can explain-"

"You wrote a song about me… about what happened…?" Her voice was hesitant. He saw her hold up the folder from of the corner of his eye. "Then what's this? Another song?"

"It's a… r-rap…"

"A rap," she repeated solemnly. "You wrote a rap…"

Finally, Van couldn't take it anymore. Glancing up to her face with anxious curiosity, his stomach dropped down to his shoes at her wildly glowing green eyes. Her mouth, pressed in a hard line, was crinkled at the corners as if she'd ate something unpleasant. Van noticed her cheeks were flushed a brilliant red.

And he hated to admit that even in her fury, she was still really pretty.

"Why?" she breathed. "Just… just… _why?_ "

"It's hard to explain."

"Try me," she growled.

Van ran a hand through his hair and the headache he'd had all week bloomed like a black rose across his forehead.

"Can I tell you… not… _here?_ " he asked, gesturing to the increasing number of excited onlookers.

Hitomi's eyes slipped off his face and glanced slowly at the crowd as if just now realizing they were making a scene. The red blush of her fury washed away from her cheeks and was replaced with a tired paleness.

"Fine," she said irritably.

Without further permission, Van reached out and grabbed her free hand. She gave a squeak of surprise as he began pulling her down the street and she followed almost in a daze. All around them, the crowd "oooo'ed" and "awww'd" as he brushed passed them determinedly.

"Can I take your photo?"

"Dude, where are you taking her?"

"Are you two going to kiss?"

"Why did you puke on her?"

"That can't really be _them!_ "

"She's smaller than on the video."

"Seriously, _are you two going to kiss_?"

His face burned and he refused to look back at her as he dragged her passed the corner and around the block to the right. The crowd shadowed them slightly, their questions continuing to follow their backs.

"This video has ruined my life!" Hitomi whined at his back.

"Mine, too," Van agreed. "Balgus said something that I needed to hear. I can put a stop to this, but first, I want you to understand where I'm coming from. And that I'm _not_ a stalker."

"Pulling me like this isn't helping your image!" She yanked her hand out of his and continued to walk beside him.

"Where are we going?"

Van let out a low breath.

"To meet with my business partner."

* * *

"Weeell, heeellllllooo…" Allen's voice dipped into a low growl as he spied the pair standing at his doorstep. His blue eyes flickered immediately past Van to the pixie waitress, who was currently busy tapping her foot on the concrete with impatience.

Eyes rimmed with black winged glasses, Van wanted to roll his eyes at Allen's attempt at brushing his long, thick hair into a man-bun. The end result looked like a giant cinnamon roll sitting on top of his head.

"This is Allen," Van said swiftly, making introductions before his partner could speak. "Allen, this is Hitomi Kanzaki."

"Enchanté," The blond whispered, holding out a hand to her. To Van's chagrin, the pixie waitress stepped up beside him and let Allen take her fingers with a small smile appearing on her lips. As Allen placed a quick kiss on the back of her hand, Van had to swallow down the wash of frustration that burned in his stomach.

This was not what he had planned…

"I need to explain a few things to her, Allen," Van said through gritted teeth. "If you don't mind, I'd like her to come in and see what we've been working on."

"Oh! A fan, I see," Allen smiled with delight. Dropping her hand, he gestured inside with a sweep of his arm. "Please, come on in."

The green-eyed woman glanced back at Van curiously before stepping inside the door.

Just as Van was about to follow her, Allen, still standing by the door, grabbed his shoulder, effectively stopping him.

"Who? Why? Single?" he hissed in a quick staccato. Van brushed his hand off with a scowl.

"No, she's not here for you to flirt with," he said a little more dark than he meant to. "I don't want you getting ideas."

"A shorty like that comin' to muh crib? Wish you'd rang me, brah. You left a brother hangin'."

"Don't get ideas!" Van repeated sharply.

Allen's blue eyes suddenly lit up with realization as his face turned to follow Hitomi's short skirt up the stairs.

"Brah, brah! No ways, man! No fizzle!"

"What?" Van asked incredulously.

"She's the chick on the vid, man! She's the _one_!"

"Yeah, she's the poor unfortunate person I threw up on and got videotaped while doing it," Van answered, trying to ignore the creeping headache that was slowly coming back. Leaving Allen gaping at the doorstep, he took the stairs after her and saw her standing in the studio room with her mouth open in awe.

"Wow, look at that!" she cried, coming up to a framed album hanging on the wall. It was a deep lavender with folds of a lovely chocolate red rose on the cover. "The Dark Side of a Rose Pedal…" she read almost breathlessly. "This was one of my favorites from you guys."

"Mine, too," Van agreed with a nod as his mahogany eyes searched the room for his ruined songs. He heard the door shut and Allen's blond man-bun appeared. "Hey, where's my binder with the songs in it?"

"They're getting Chid-mixed, brah," Allen answered with a distracted wave as he immediately crossed the room to stand with Hitomi. He leaned against the wall next to the album and gave a long, grin. "You liked that album? I feel like the last song was the best one on it."

"That one… wasn't it called 'Bluebeard's Remix'?" Her eyebrows made a small clinch on her forehead and Van had to hide his smile behind his hand.

Allen had written that particular flop.

"It had that pop rhythm, ya know? Like a good beat at da club." Allen nodded at Van for confirmation, but Van looked away immediately and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"That one was okay, I guess, but I really liked 'Sold to You'," she confessed, her green eyes still staring at the album. "Oh, and 'The Chance of a Lifetime'."

"Here and now, in this moment.  
The stolen taste of your tongue.  
The gentle kiss of desire  
Unwinds the whispered song:  
Of the chance of a lifetime."

Van sang the lyrics under his breath, and Hitomi glanced over her shoulder with surprise written on her face.

"I wrote most of that album," he shrugged modestly as his ears turned red. Suddenly nervous, he turned away and pretended to search through the magazines lying on the coffee table. "Allen, where did you say the binder was?"

It took a few seconds for the blond man to answer him, and when he did, Van could immediately feel the animosity dripping from every word: "I told you it's going thru the mix."

He looked up and locked eyes with his business partner. The clear blue was dangerously sharp like stabbing daggers. Van feinted ignorance at his sudden hostile demeanor and swallowed back his sigh.

 _Just his luck he'd get roped into a one-sided jealousy war with Allen._

Seeing the curiosity ignite beautifully behind her bright green eyes, he changed his thought before he could stop himself:

 _Just his luck he'd have to **compete** with Allen._

"What does that mean? What book?" Hitomi asked oblivious of their standoff.

"It's the reason I wanted you to come with me. I wanted to show you the original works of the new album…"

"The original works?"

He faltered, and he watched her cross her arms over her yellow dress, waiting.

"You see... We are writing the album about… food…"

"Food," she repeated with a disbelieving stare.

"Sexy food!" Allen piped in with a wink. She gave him a weird look before turning back to Van.

" _Seriously? You guys_ , the White Dragons, are writing an album about... _sexy..._ _food._ "

Just hearing her say the words was enough for Van's headache to break free from it's chains and blossom over his forehead like a belated, sharp-thorn rose.

"Yeah," he whispered with defeat. "Sexy food. Thus, the chips rap, and everything else that was in the… uhh… currently missing binder…"

"So what does this have to do with the other song? The one you need the video for?"

"Allow me to show you," Allen said in a deep, proud voice and swept over to his outrageously large stereo. He took up his IPhone and grabbed the plug near the speakers hanging on the wall.

"This masterpiece was just this morning! Get ready for our first single as the new, and improved, _White Dragons_!" He announced as he pressed play on his phone and a terrible crashing beat instantly roared from the speakers. Van and Hitomi winced together.

Then an electronic voice began chanting, "Pour more syrup! Pour more syrup! Pour more syrup!"

And, as her green eyes slowly revolved back onto his once more, he knew he was ready to die. If there was a God, he wished that this would be the moment for Armageddon. He would gratefully accept the burning torturing death. He would smile as his body quickly turned into ash.

The sweet embrace of death...

It would be better than the look on her face right now.

So, so much better.

* * *

"Where's that idiot?" Balgus snarled from the back counter with a thick fist on his hip. Combined with the red flush on his cheeks and the gray stained apron, Yukari thought he looked like a clucking chicken.

"Hitomi ran out of the restaurant to give a customer something he'd left," another waitress answered, the bags under her heavily mascaraed eyes standing prominently from her pale cheekbones. "She should have been back a long time ago! She's supposed to cover my night shift tonight!"

"Hitomi left?" Yukari inquired with a touch of worry as she rolled more silverware into paper napkins. Busy as she'd been, Yukari felt a pang of shame for not noticing her best friend was missing.

Some friend she was...

"It was that young man!"

"Unhelpful as always, Pricilla!" Balgus growled.

"Who was this young man?" Yukari asked.

"The one you spent a lot of time talking to, ya fat oaf!" the heavy-set waitress snipped. "Just because you own this stinkin' place doesn't mean you get all the downtime you want!"

"Making sure regulars are greeted and treated right is something every owner should do! Too bad you're driving all my customers away with your ugly mug!"

The waitress growled. "Ungrateful sack of-"

"Alright, alright, that's enough!" Yukari called out peacefully. "That young man was that Van guy, right? Van Fanel?" she turned to the old man questioningly. "What was he doing here?"

"He needed some food and advice. He ain't done nothing. If anything, that brat's bothering him again," the owner barked. "The poor guy can't seem to catch a break."

"If she's there, then she's probably there for a reason," Yukari reasoned smoothly trying to soothe her own worries. Turning to the disgruntled waitress, Yukari sighed, "I'll take over her night shift, so you're covered, alright?"

"Hmph." She rolled her eyes, but didn't say no. With another deep sigh escaping her lips, the auburn-headed girl picked up her stack of rolled up silverware and hurried over to the small greeting stand near the doorway. She had just bent down to put them in a waiting basket when the door opened.

"I'm sorry, we are out of room at the moment-" She stopped short as her eyes fixed themselves on a pair of happy brown. She tried to swallow, but her throat had immediately tightened and she choked on her spit. Coughing into her hand, she tried to stop her racing thoughts as his handsome face suddenly turned concerned.

"A-Amano…" she stuttered.

"Hi, Yukari!" he grinned brightly.

* * *

She sat down on the couch, listening almost impassively as Allen happily replayed the song for her. Van had fallen into the white armchair and was currently hiding his face in his hands. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he desperately called to anyone, any deity that could possibly be listening, to _do something! Anything!_

But the universe with it's deities wasn't saving him today. He sat in his shame; feeling her hard gaze rip his skin like a gutting knife.

"It matches the viral video," she said coolly, the underlying anger barely concealed in her voice.

"Doesn't it? Yo, I knew you was on fleek, girl, but I nev's would have guessed you be so tight!"

"Yeah, sure," she answered softly. Allen excitedly sat down beside her and conducted the dub-steps spiral beat with his pointer finger. "This is the best part!" he grinned just as the "Pour more syrup!" chant began once more.

"When are you going to release this?" the question was pricked at Van, but he refused to lift his head from his hands.

He couldn't face the world anymore.

"Sometime next month if we can manage it," Allen answered, draping his arm around the back of the couch. His hand barely grazed her shoulder. "You cool wit dat? We can def try to speed up product."

"We are working on too many other songs as it is. I think it would be safer for your vocal cords if we didn't push you too hard, Allen," Van finally murmured from his hands. Trying to tap into a bravery that he knew didn't exist inside, he raised his head and finally met her green eyes.

 _Ah, damn it…_

Even from the way she sat, he could see how livid she was. Her back was straight as an arrow with her arms wrapped tightly against her stomach. Her legs were crossed, one foot swinging wildly left and right. Even her shoulders were rigid with veiled fury.

"Is there _any_ way we can get that binder, Allen? I was… kinda counting on it being here…" Van asked with hopeless desperation.

"Dude, brah, stop asking me dat. You knows it wit Chid, aight dawg? He laying down the tunes."

"So, what's in this… _binder_?" Hitomi's voice was flecked with ice.

"Just some old-ass shit he wrote," Allen replied with a smirk. "We's makin' 'em about food now."

"Y-Yeah, yeah," Van latched on, trying urgently to make her understand without alerting Allen. "I was, well, I _am_ poor. I need the money for Merle. No one wanted my songs anymore."

"Because they boring as shit, dawg!"

"Right, right, they were boring as shit. And so Allen took my songs and we… changed them."

"So… the pancake song was an old song of yours that you changed?" she asked confused – he was grateful to see the anger calming slightly.

"Naw, girl, he wrote that shit last week!"

"Last-week?" she repeated through gritted teeth, her anger flaring once more.

Van's mouth bobbed open and closed like a fish that had flopped out of its tank. "It's… it's not what you think…" he finally said weakly. "I just wanted you to _understand_."

"Understand what? That you wrote this obscene song about me and are wanting to make money off of it? That you are profiting off of something that has been nothing but a curse to me? You are… you are so…" Her face had grown a brilliant red, and whatever Van was, he never got to know as she suddenly stood up from the couch and stomped to the staircase.

"Hitomi, wait!" he called jumping up to run after her. "Look, we aren't going to use that song!"

"Like hell, we ain't!" Allen's voice snapped behind his head. "Who this bitch think she is?"

" _Shut-up_ , Allen!" Van roared as he took the steps two at a time. The door clanged shut and he whipped it open. Her yellow uniform was already halfway down the block. She was running quickly, dodging people left and right.

"Crap," Van breathed before taking off after her. "Hitomi!" he cried, making several people stop to stare at him. "Please! Hitomi, please wait!"

To his despair, she crossed the busy road just as the pedestrian sign flashed a countdown to crossing the street. He knew he's never make it in time.

He hated himself, but he knew he had to.

Just as the pedestrian sign stopped blinking, he leapt off the sidewalk and raced as fast as he could across the busy four lane street. A car honked and he dodged as one almost hit him. His heart burned in his chest. Another driver screamed profanities, and he lifted a hand to wave a quick apology.

And then he was clear. He was on the other side. He put his hands on his knees and panted with both exhaustion and his subsiding panic.

"Alright." Her voice was right above his head and his eyes opened to see her white tennis shoes standing in front of him. Glancing up, her green eyes still held that shine of anger, but a small, crooked smile had slightly lifted the corners of her mouth.

"Explain yourself."

* * *

 **Btw, they really need to fix this divider line glitch. It's kinda crampin' my style, yo.**

 **So, for those of you who wanted more: again I am doing that challenge-writing-thingy right now, so that means Be Ready, Rutilus, and allll that good stuff is getting pushed to the side for the time being.**

 **And yes, I'm writing on a completely different story. Because I'm insane. It just goes with being me.**

 **Soooo, who hates Allen? Show of hands! lol! *slowly raises my own hand up* BUT he serves a purpose and that purpose is making Van's life terrible - and now - that includes Hitomi's as well!**

 **More secrets revealed. More mayhem to come. And a lot more fun where this came from.**

 **Also, I might just write that entire The Chance of a Lifetime song...**

 **Until next time, my loves!**

 **blue...**


	8. 8 Hope You're Not Lactose Intolerant

**Once again I needed to turn to this silliness to take a bit of a break on life. I've been so busy with work, I can hardly find the time to write any more - which is probably a good thing considering I _shouldn't technically_ be writing at work right now, but hey, I've had a busy week. **

**So, enjoy the insanity. Be Ready has been worked on and Rutilus has a few points coming along as well. This one is just simple and stupid and I love it to bits.**

 **Also, no Beta, so there's probably mistakes. Just FYI.**

 **Loves!**

* * *

Hitomi wasn't sure what to think as she sat delicately on the cold bench next to Van Fanel, a man who she couldn't believe she'd only met a short week ago. Though it was a busy street, the bench they had chosen for their conversation was tucked away further on the side-walk; large oak branches draping overhead, creating a deep, almost cave-like, atmosphere. Despite the sunny day, there was a chilly nip in the air. Hitomi crossed her arms over her uniform to keep from shivering. Without a word, Van slipped off his jacket and handed it to her. Blinking in surprise at the unexpectedly chivalrous gesture, she took it and put it on with a quiet, "Thank you".

She was equally surprised at the smell of it. Fabric softener and a piney cologne. Not a bad combination.

Looking into his exhausted mahogany eyes, she scratched underneath her chin with a fingernail and slowly let her mind process all that he had just confessed to her.

"So you're saying Allen Schezar is the one behind all of this mess?" She concluded a bit skeptically, pulling the sleeve of his jacket over her fingers to keep them warm.

"He's the one pulling the strings," Van answered with a sigh. "It's like he wants the band to become laughing-stocks of the music industry. I was fine with it when he was alone, but now I'm an unwitting full-fledged member."

"If this was all Allen's doing, where did this Pancake Song come from?" She quirked an eyebrow.

To her confusion, he smiled a bit at the question. "Actually, that's a weird thing. I don't know where it came from. Several days ago, I had sat down with all my songs I'd written over the years and transformed them into songs about food." He grimaced. "That was a tough night. But then, after I was done, I really don't know why, but I thought about you."

Hitomi blanched and a bright blush popped on her face. "Wh-What do you mean?" She stammered, going back to fiddling with his sleeve. A swirl of unexpected nervousness flitted her stomach like tiny hummingbirds and the short-haired waitress struggled to keep it still.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice her blush, but kept his face down, eyes staring at the concrete below his brown, stained loafers.

"I guess I was just thinking of all that had happened the past twenty-four hours. You just kinda came to my mind. I wrote out the Pancake Song that night – all with the intention of never, _ever_ showing it to Allen. I wasn't thinking clearly after hours of work and tucked the song away in the book. Allen found it after flicking through my other songs. I tried to stop him and told him that it was a mistake, but…"

"He's kind of run with it, hasn't he?"

"More than I ever thought possible. I… also should add that I needed the money, too," he confessed, ducking his head further so that his hair fell over his eyes. "I have to take the blame for it. The Pancake Song wouldn't be here if I hadn't written it. Allen wouldn't have it if I'd just paid attention that night. If I had insisted and stood my ground, then we would have never used it. I could have – no, _should have_ been firmer, harder, and less… God, less _pathetic_. As a consequence, you're dealing with a lot of problems. And it's not the end of it either. With this song released, it'll probably only escalade from here. Allen is dead set on this song and will probably go behind my back if I try to stop him now. I didn't realize when all this started that it would affect you this way. I wasn't thinking of anything, but the money involved. I'm sorry."

The apology was as long and unexpected as it was sincere. She felt it radiating from him. His head turned only slightly and she could see his dark amber orbs staring hard at the cracked concrete. His raven hair framing his tan face, she sighed at his bent spine and the tired scrunch of his shoulders. Try as she might, any flame of resentment sputtered and died at his posture. Instead, the nervousness in her stomach warmed with sad pity. He'd had enough retributions these past few days. He didn't need any more problems from her.

"I'll survive. That's what I do best, anyway," she said briskly.

His head shot up to fixate a gaze at her so strong with relief and wonder, she almost jumped in her seat. Darting her green eyes away while her blush grew brighter, she cleared her throat importantly. "Honestly, I've made quite a bit of money at the restaurant because of the video, and I'll probably get more from the song. Considering it's about me and the video will probably be used, I expect some form of compensation. A percentage of the cut, so to speak."

"I didn't think of that," Van said slowly with a nod. "You definitely deserve something. I mean, it's the least I can do _._ "

"You can make the check out for 'trauma'."

Van let out a laugh of surprise delight that crinkled his eyes. She couldn't help grinning at the sound. Tucking a strand of short hair behind her ear, she cuddled further in the coat and asked, "What were some of the songs you changed?"

If he was happy with her 'tramua' joke, this question was the pot of gold. Sitting up, his spine immediately straightened and his dark amber eyes were practically shimmering with delight. It was weird that she was suddenly struck by how long his torso was. The top of her head came to around his neck. Not that she was picky when it came to height, but, for some odd reason, it made her breath catch in her throat a tiny bit. She squashed the nervousness before it could grow further.

Van started listing a thick roll of song titles, some he elaborated further on when there was a particular lyric he liked, or it was about a certain person he knew. Hitomi secretly continued to crush the pool of delight that struggled against her cage. There was just something so wholesome about him. Something she hadn't found in someone since Yukari. Van was an open book, his feelings written perfectly like a page.

He was genuinely a kind person.

When Van mentioned one title, "Her Pink Hair", Hitomi giggled against her will as she pictured his spunky little sister.

Seeing her reaction, he sang a bit for her:

"She's the home for my heart  
Wishing we will never part  
But she's growing up way too fast  
Gotta make my time with her last - and last.  
There's a red tie on my finger.  
A crimson string I wish would linger.  
Fightin' off the boys that stare  
At her pink hair."

"That's very sweet," Hitomi nodded as Van finished the song quietly. "You make me envious. I don't have any talent for singing or poetry."

"People make it harder than it really is. Just look inside and find what you treasure the most. The rest just… comes." He shrugged simply, but his tan cheeks took on a twinge of red and he ducked his head again. She was beginning to realize this was a bit of a habit of his.

"Makes me wonder what treasure you had in your life when you thought of 'Chance of a Lifetime'," Hitomi teased.

His blush grew more prominent and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's not the manliest job, but it's what I got," he said avoiding the subject. "Not that it pays well either."

She noticed his evasiveness, but decided to humor him. "Well, waitressing and free tutoring can't be called the best employment either, so I can't judge."

They both blinked in surprise as a rumbling feeling vibrated the bench they were sitting on. Slowly, Van reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his buzzing phone. She saw his eyes tighten as he read the name: "Allen."

"Answer it," she sighed. They both glanced at each other in a strange kindred exhaustion before Van slid the phone with his finger and answered the call.

"Brah, Gad's gots the vid!"

* * *

 _Ten minutes ago…_

Dryden Fassa smirked as the green man took a seat on his black leather couch and it squawked against his green trousers. Lacing his long fingers, he rested his elbows against the top of his pristinely crisp, white-wood desk and blinked importantly at his two guests. The boy, Dilandau – as he was introduced - stood with nervous shifting feet, his unusual reddish eyes dancing with a grimace over the various inspirational posters Dryden had insisted adorn his walls. Dressed in a black shirt and tight jeans, the boy clutched a flash drive tightly in his hands, which were folded in front of his stomach.

"I take it you're familiar with program editing?" Dryden inquired calmly.

"I-I am," Dilandau stuttered. Dryden's eyebrows rose a fraction. The boy seemed to be hovering between an equal amount of nervousness and condescension. A strange, but amusing feature.

"I'm guessing your resume is that thing you're fiddling in your hands." The CEO flicked his brown eyes pointedly at Dilandau's twisting fingers, which instantly halted. Holding out a palm, he drawled, "May I?"

The boy practically skipped a step as he hurried forward to place the black flash drive into Dryden's hand. "This is just something I've worked on for a few months. I've recently started training on multiple platforms which include-"

"I'll see for myself," Dryden interrupted swiftly as he clicked a button on his desk and a screen emerged from the drawer. Dilandau's eyes widened as the top of the desk folded beautifully over itself and created a lovely stand for the expensive computer.

My friend, Gad, here said you were exceptionally gifted when it comes to editing. I take Gad's recommendations very seriously."

"Very seriously?" Dilandau repeated with a bewildered look at the green man – who smirked and waved from the couch.

" _Very_ seriously." Dryden nodded before pushing the flashdrive in with one long finger. Instantly, his computer whirled to life like a harmonic song. Brown eyes whisked across the screen, pleasantly scanning one program after another. The colors of Dilandau's videos flashed on his face and he had to admit, the boy had talent. It was a novice talent, but it was there nonetheless. There was a certain artistic, fiery air to his work. Flashy, brilliant, passionate, but still could be considered respectable. Dryden glanced at Gadeth to see him staring at the ceiling and making spit bubbles with his mouth.

Once again, that son-of-a-bitch found the diamond in the rough. Damn it, the fool was good at his job.

"Here's what I propose," Dryden started, without changing his tone. Turning off the computer with a twitch of a finger, he noticed the boy's ashy face and he knew he was being cruel by making him sweat. "I am a very busy man. I have many important meetings to attend. I have lots of important things to do. I'll give you the part-time intern position-"

"Thank you, sir!" the boy practically shouted.

"-Let me finish." Dryden held up a hand and the boy quieted. "I'll give you the part-time intern position if you do one thing for me."

"Anything!"

He was so eager. So fresh. So innocently foolish. Dryden _loved_ this kid.

"Make Gadeth work for me."

"Nope! Not happening! Not caging this phoenix no matter how many times you offer, Dry-Dry!" Gadeth's voice broke out almost in sing-song. The man hadn't even moved from his spot nor taken his eyes from the ceiling. Another spit bubble emerged from his lips.

Dryden sighed lightly and clicked his tongue. "Worth a shot. Well, kid, if you manage to get Gad on board, I'll hire you fulltime. But for now, I'll have Eris show you around and you can start on Monday."

"Don't forget our promise, Dilly-doo!" Gad called and the kid turned around with a dark frown. Dryden caught the expression and a furtive smile slipped on his lips. Gadeth flicked out his phone – flip phone - and typed a text on it lazily.

"I remember it. The video…" the kid sighed. "It's yours."

* * *

The easy conversation they had had prior to Allen's slang-infused gibberish phone call was now tainted with silence. As Hitomi's eyebrows had risen higher and higher with disbelief at his partner's ramblings, Van sank further and further with trepidation. Now that the video was in his possession, there was nothing stopping the head-on train wreck that was The White Dragons. Allen also mentioned that he wanted a new song – a third single to drop juuuust before the album to make sure sales were up. A cold sweat had broken over Van's hairline as Allen ended the call with a chirping, "catchu on da flippity" and he finally turned his eyes to Hitomi's brilliant emerald. She was watching him, her expression one of incredulity. Then her eyebrows crashed into a dark frown.

"He can't do this," she growled. "He can't just control-"

"He _can_ ," Van sighed and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "He does what he wants and he holds my livelihood in his hands."

"That's just…" Hitomi's words sputtered off her lips before she frowned again – this time in contemplation. "Van," she started quietly. "Why not let him have your songs and be done with him? He will pay you for them and you both can go your separate ways." Her eyes grew as the idea openly bloomed over her face. Van's eyes drifted back down to his shoes to avoid her shining hopefulness. "You could write on your own! Do this by yourself! You don't need Allen. Your songs are wonderful-"

"I've tried that," he said with a long exhale. "That's been my life for the last several years. I can barely support Merle anymore. No one _wants_ poetry. They only want the next best club mix."

"I like poetry." Her bottom lip curled defensively. "And, on that note, why not just write club mixes? Sell those instead?"

"Because apparently I can only write weird songs like that. Songs about damn sexy pancakes."

"You never know. Sexy food might become a huge hit."

"I've also signed the contract."

"Contracts can be nulled."

"This is guaranteed money. I can't afford to wait until sexy food becomes a hit. The bills are piling, Merle's school is turning into a gang breeding zone, and Allen's due to give me a check in a week once the single is ready."

Her eyes darkened tightly and she sat back on the bench with an irritated sigh. "Well, you can't blame me for trying to help you."

Van's head lifted slightly and she saw his lips unexpectedly twist with a crooked smile. "Why _are_ you trying to help me anyway?"

 _Shit_! Her brain barked as the cute turn of his mouth made her blood rush to her cheeks. The nervous twist in her stomach knocked at its cage once more, and she swallowed tightly to brace her irrational feelings. This was stupid. She was being stupid.

 _Oh, shit, he asked a question, didn't he?_

"Because I know how it feels to be down in your luck," she answered after only a five second pause, and congratulated her brain on its quick and, surprisingly truthful, answer. "I've had my fair share of bad. It'd be nice to see someone succeed for once. Especially when this bad luck really isn't your fault. You have to think of it in another way though. You've got talent, Van. It's clear that you are doing what you're meant to be doing. A lot of people can't say that about their careers. If you're dead set on making money this way, just do what you do, get the check, and maybe in a few years, you'll make enough money and street credit to actually pursue being just a pure lyricist."

His crooked smile had faded, but another light emotion had flickered on his face. She couldn't recognize it fast enough before it was gone.

"Would you…?" He stopped and she saw his throat bob nervously in his throat. "Look, it's been a long day and I could use a beer. You want to get a drink with me?"

Hitomi flinched. A stupid reaction that had her defensively crossing her arms over her chest. Get a drink with him. Go out somewhere in public. With a man. Like a date? Was this a date? Did Van just ask her out? Did he mean to ask her out like this? Was this only like a friend thing? Wait, were they even _friends?_ Scrambling, she tried to formulate an excuse, but her green eyes were so focused on his, a bright "sure!" escaped her mouth before she could stop herself. It sounded weird and slightly squeaky, like a stranger speaking for her. Seeing the shine of delight brush over his features, she forced a strained smile.

"Oh, wait. Do you have to go back to work? Balgus will be missing you," he asked – and coincidentally giving her the excuse she couldn't think of in time.

"Nope!" she said in the same silly chirp and mentally kicked herself.

"Well, alright, then." Van grinned.

The bar they walked to was only a few blocks away and wasn't busy in the least. Only two other souls were inside the dark, dank place, and they were both buried in the spirits clutched in their fists. Honestly, Hitomi hadn't been to a bar like this since college, and even then she had never been a heavy drinker. It was a small hole-in-the-wall joint, the sign on the front window depicting a mole popping out of a hole. The picture made sense when Van slid onto a bar stool and called out for "Mole". A short, squatty man with thick round glasses gave a small squeak before his thin lips spread into a brilliant grin.

"Vanny-boy! Been a while! We got the new spring season on tap!"

"One for me," Van answered and turned to her with a questioning look.

"Uhh, white wine?"

"Com'in up! Hope you like a pinot griot!" Mole tossed and his balding head disappeared behind the bar.

They fell swiftly into a relaxed conversation again. It was strangely easier to talk in this smoky little place. Easier to forget what had brought them together. He asked about her students and she casually inquired about Merle's progress at school. He tossed in a quick jibe about her yellow uniform and she smirked as he blushed when she asked what he liked most about it. He stumbled about his words before he said one thing which made her crack up laughing: "ruffles…"

It was flirty innocence. It was fun. Van sipped his beer and offered to buy her another glass of wine. She hadn't even realized she drank it all until he said something. A warmness hum was in her belly and she shrugged off his coat to lay it across her lap before agreeing. She could see his face had lost some of the hardness, a calm happiness crinkling his eyes instead of stress. He was… already quite attractive in the sad puppy-dog way, but this lightness, as if parts of his burdens had been lifted, almost made her stomach start doing that ridiculous twisting again – almost.

Her second glass was settled on the coaster when she accidentally touched a conversation topic that brought back the tension in Van's shoulders. Immediately, she wished she could take back her question, but Van was already opening his mouth to answer.

"The subject for the new song Allen wants? I really don't know. It's gotta be about food, but I think I've run out of ideas."

"Already wrote about the chips incident," she added, trying to keep the playful spirit up.

He scratched the back of his neck as his eyes turned dark with thought. "There's nothing that comes to mind. Pancakes, chips, fruit, sandwiches, grilled vegetables-"

"Can we order some snacks? You're making me hungry."

"Let me show you some of the lyrics and you'll lose that appetite, trust me." Van snorted a laugh, but the tension had yet to leave him.

"Excuse me, Mole! This dip is cold! I wanted warm queso! _Warm!_ " A voice spoke out from behind Van's head and both of them turned to see an older lady with a stern brow holding up a bowl of thick yellow cheese. Her hand shook and some of the cheese gooped over the side to splat on the dark floor. Van scooted quickly, but some landed on his shoe as well. Hitomi leaned to scowl at the lady.

"It was warm, you just take forever to eat anything," Mole barked back, straightening his spine though his size was hardly intimidating.

"I ordered melty cheese! This is thicker than my middle finger!" The old woman showed the barkeep said finger and Hitomi watched as Van's eyebrows raised slightly.

"You know what I said about that language! Watch yourself or you won't be welcomed here at all!" Mole retorted. "Hold your horses, you old bat! I'll warm up the dip in the microwave!" He jumped forward, leaned over the bar, and grabbed the cheese from the old lady's fingers. "I mean it. No more of that profanity here. Go back to your table and I'll bring you the cheese."

Van's head snapped to Hitomi's and she leaned away with apprehension. His dark mahogany eyes were practically glowing in the low light.

"I think I have an idea…"

* * *

"Melty, gooey, dripping with strings  
Tangled in fingertips, licking it clean  
Hits the tongue, a salty delight  
Damn, this Gouda taste good tonight.

Grade it thin, slice it thick  
Pealing slowly mozzarella stick  
Squeezing smooth round provolone  
Rubbing it good, crankin' ecstasy moan.

"Guilty as sin, that wet fromage  
Swiss holes making my body hard.  
Layered my lasagna, parmesan queen  
You're making me scream  
If you know what I mean.

"Ricotta,  
Ain't nothin' betta.  
Monterey Jack,  
Just like in the sack.  
Manchego,  
Just one taste is a tease.  
Are you sure you wanna take that cheddar from me?"

"Knowing you as a person, I would have never expected something like this. But knowing the Pancake Song, I'm surprised you aren't more explicit."

"One must have their limits, I guess." Van sighed as he set the pen down on the bar and rubbed his eyes with his palms. Both drinks forgotten and pushed aside for the pen and small piece of receipt paper, Hitomi leaned her chin into her hand as she had watched Van furiously scribble out the most nonsensical garbage she'd ever laid eyes on. It was a sight, honestly, seeing him come up with the most ridiculous rimes right off the top of his head.

She was even more surprised at how much he knew about cheese.

"What about feta?" Hitomi suggested with a hint of a grin. "It's white and crumbly and goes good with cucumbers."

"You mean like Greek salads?"

"More like ' _sprinkle that feta all over my cucumber'_ or something like that," she giggled. Van rolled his eyes, but smiled.

"Actually, I was thinking of brie."

Hitomi raised a hand and started listing with her fingers: "Knee, see, be, three-"

"Factory, thoroughly, carefree, chewie-"

"Whoopee!" She clapped her hands excitedly and another laugh burst forth at Van's incredulous look. "What? It works!"

Shaking his head with a full bloom smile, he grabbed the pen and scratched out:

"Feta so fine – spread 'cross the tongue  
A taste that's making the body sprung  
The sour-salt spice of queso dip  
Slowly ticklin' with the fingertip.  
Let's slap that brie.  
Across the knee.  
Before we see  
A full whoopee."

"I can't write this anymore. I'm done. _God_..." Van dropped the pen again as Hitomi leaned in closer to read. Her bottom lip tucked into her mouth to keep her giggles at bay. Nodding slowly, she blinked rapidly.

"I think Allen would approve."

"This is sickening."

Watching him push the receipt paper away slowly and grab for his forgotten beer, she reached for the paper and turned it over to the blank side. Holding the pen for him, she said, "How about this: on the back of it write something poetic, like how you used to write."

"I don't really want to," Van said sourly with a swallow.

"I think it'll make you feel better if you did."

Sighing tightly, he took the pen from her fingers and she felt a weird lurch as his fingernail lightly grazed the back of her hand. Putting the pen down – further away from the both of them – he shook his head.

"I think I've had enough writing for today."

"Suit yourself." She shrugged, but struggled with inward disappointment. "For what it's worth, I think you've been blessed with a special talent – for both kinds of songwriting." She clarified at Van's raised eyebrow. "This cheese nonsense is practically perfect for whatever Allen wants and you knocked it out in barely thirty minutes. As for your other works…" she trailed off, blushing, and turned to stare at her half-full glass of wine. She hadn't meant to get so… _confessy_. She shot an inward scowl at the innocent glass of alcohol. She shouldn't have gotten a second one.

"You… really think so?" he asked softly. His eyes were staring at the receipt paper, but a new expression had emerged. He had a flicker of awe in his voice that immediately had her back to confessing.

"Van, you already know I was a big fan of the White Dragons back in the day. I learned from Merle that my favorites were personally written from you. Your words are inspiring. Lovely. Like… like… sunshine, I think."

 _God,_ she needed to stop. Now.

But… he was _smiling_. A fondness for his smile crept up and she shoved it away, unwanted.

"T-thanks. That means a lot, actually." He turned to face her on his stool and his knee brushed hers lightly under the bar. Instantly moving his leg away, he cleared his throat and snatched his beer to take another long swig.

Likewise, and probably unwisely, she took a sip of her wine. The awkwardness was back, as thick as queso cheese, but this time there was an underlying tension that had nothing to do with Allen or songwriting, and had everything to do with how his arm was close to touching her elbow.

A buzz in her apron made her jump and almost spill the glass down her front. Glancing at her curiously, he watched her reach inside and take out her cellphone. The name shined like an exit sign: "Old Fart".

"Balgus, I take it?" Van bit back a laugh.

"I should probably go. The breakfast rush has slowed by now and he's realized I've gone missing." She clicked her tongue with a deep sigh. "I really hate that restaurant."

"Why work there then?" Van asked with innocent curiosity.

"None of your business!" She snapped without thinking. Seeing Van's eyebrows crunch together and his visible withdrawal, she winced and wanted to kick herself. "Sorry. Look, I didn't mean for that to sound so… bitchy… it's just… personal."

"Preaching to the choir." He dipped his head with a nod of forgiveness. "I understand you have things you don't want to talk about. But, thanks… for today. For coming along and listening to what I have to say. For going to Allen's and seeing what he's about. I'll make sure Allen writes up a contract where you get some form of payment for damages."

"I'd like that." She smiled softly.

"And for hanging out." He added in a rush. She could have sworn his cheeks tinged pink. "I thought today would turn into a bad day, but this has actually been pretty nice. One of the better days I've had in a long time."

"I _might_ be having a bad day this Friday," she blurted out, surprising even herself. "And I might just come here for a glass of wine again. Maybe after work at around 6ish. Maybe not."

Van's lips burst into an eye-crinkling smile so brilliant, she didn't even try to stop the scores of butterflies bouncing in her stomach.

"I might just be around to cheer you up then."

* * *

"She catches my eye, the emeralds gleam  
I drift, fade away like a thinly-veiled dream.  
But the heart starts thumping  
The stomach starts rolling  
It's hard to keep breathing  
When I see her fairy-like skin as soft as cream.

The feeling rages there now, fear drags at my lip  
Reining in the words before they slip  
The truths I desire to untangle my tongue  
They stop at my throat, adoration unsung."

Van stopped briefly, not wanting to end the verse there, but his brain was quickly swelling to the chorus he heard in his head. The thrum of a piano and possibly the build of a violin – crescendo-ing into a bright sound.

One that reminded of sunshine.

"Love's lullaby serves as the key  
If I just let those unsaid words be free.  
Please drop all your fears and rely on me  
We could hold hands, sprinting through the trees  
Or roll in the glades, escape reality  
The heavens themselves will look down and agree  
Accept my offer, on bended knee.  
Then maybe we can howl carefree  
Loving endlessly -  
Like the wolves we were meant to be."

Glancing down at the lined padded paper that sat vigilantly on the kitchen table, Van finally halted the pencil in his fingertips and glanced down at what he had written. Eyes wide, mouth falling open, and a twist of slight fear, he tore the paper off the pad, wadded it furiously, and threw it in the kitchen bin. With an irritated sigh, Van put the padded paper back on the counter and moved back to the stove to ground the meat for dinner.

But unbeknownst to him-

Sharp eyes and a wash of bright pink hair watched him from the doorway, a curious eyebrow lifting at the trashcan.

* * *

 **I wasn't sure how I wanted this to end, honestly. I have a very small plotline with a lot of weird things happening in it, which also gives me probably way too much freedom than it should. I have a spot on how I want this to go, but the journey there is still kind of a mystery. Granted, I write this for kicks and giggles, so to expect an epic plotline would be silly of me.**

 **I find it fun to think that Hitomi can inspire a love song - even if Van feels weird afterward. lol! We shall see if that one resurfaces as well.**

 **He seems to have a bad luck when it comes to that.**

 **More to come on all my stories! Thank you to all who keep at this weird one. It really means a whole lot to me!**

 **blue...**


End file.
